


Seen a Million Faces (but I've been waiting for you)

by Hyeyu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Dance Instructor!Kuroo, Dancing, Dancing is hard guys, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Schmoop, Slow Burn, excessive descriptions of dancing, so many misunderstandings it's practically Shakespearean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 05:26:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7301248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyeyu/pseuds/Hyeyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In all his time as a dance instructor, Kuroo has had his fair share of newcomers walk into his classes at Nekoma. But there were dance newbies, and then there was Sawamura Daichi.</p>
<p>(aka the Dance!AU in which Kuroo teaches dance, Sawamura tries his best, and circumstances keep getting in the damn way.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seen a Million Faces (but I've been waiting for you)

**Author's Note:**

> Also fondly known as 'the Dance!AU no one asked for, but apparently I wanted to give, and thus spent agonizing weeks on because certain volleyball players decided to give me shit for making them dance, thanks a lot Kuroo'.
> 
> Inspired by 'Love Right Next to You' by Karina, and the multi-talented dancers at One Million Dance Studios; do check both out if you have the time to!
> 
> This is the longest piece of fanfiction I've ever written, and I kind of want to bury myself in a hole now. How did this happen. _How_.

 

“Looks like another large class today for you today.”

Kuroo glanced up from his last few leg stretches, shooting Yaku a quick grin as he straightened, bouncing experimentally on his heels. “That a good thing or a bad thing?”

Yaku looked at where a tiny crowd was gathering in one of the dance studios. “Hmmm, I guess it depends. On one hand, it’s great that there is so much interest; it does keep this place up and running. Lessens our space for moving around though, and I swear some just come to drool and take a million pictures for their Instagram.”

“Doesn’t bother me too much, as long as they don’t distract the actual dancers from their practice.” Kuroo shrugged, rolling his neck. “Guess Lev was right about the YouTube thing, huh?”

“Please don’t say that when he’s around. He’s taken to giving me ‘I told you so’ looks every time I pass by the front desk. Which wouldn’t be so bad if they were silent, but it’s Lev. When have you known him to do anything silently?”

“Fair point.” Kuroo readjusted his button-down, giving himself a quick once-over in the mirror. The baggy plaid t-shirt was loose enough to allow for the arm moves today’s dance routine would incorporate, while being form-fitting enough to look decently attractive. He ran a quick hand through his hair, grimaced as it flopped right back over his eye. “Is Yukie in yet?”

“Nah, her class isn’t until 4-ish today. Why?”

“Nothing big - just thinking of sitting in on her session. Last I heard, she’s doing a routine for “Hotline Bling” and I’m curious to see how she’s gonna work her popping into that.”

Yaku's groan was heartfelt. "That pretentious song? Really?”

“Hey, lyrics aside, it’s got a great low-key vibe. Gotta admit that’s right up her alley. What are you teaching today anyway? ‘Freeze’?”

“Nah, ‘Post to Be’. My lower back’s still a bit out of it, so something a little less complex this week.”

“Ouch. Got it checked out yet?” 

“Nah, it’s not that serious, but it’s probably for the best to take it easy for awhile.” 

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Yeah. If all things go well, I’ll do that new set I’ve planned for ‘Talk Dirty’ next week. It’s gonna go hard, especially the leg flares at the instrumental bit. ” 

“Break-dancing? Sweet, I’ll be there.” They slapped a quick high-five, then Kuroo’s eye caught the clock. “Ah, gotta run to class. If Kai goes on a food run later, can you get him to pick up a Big Mac for me? I’ll pay him tomorrow.” 

“No problem. Go slay.”

Jogging over to his designated studio for the day, Kuroo made his way past the onlookers crowded outside the glass door as he pushed it open and made his way inside. He allowed his features to fall into the lines of his trademark smirk as he scanned the room briefly. Akaashi was already there with the camera – Kuroo nodded his thanks at him. All the Nekoma choreographers took turns filming each other’s classes to upload online, but Akaashi’s videos were some of Kuroo’s favorites. They were always steady, with great angles and well-placed wide shots that showed off the dance moves well. 

Despite what Yaku had said, the class was fairly close to Kuroo’s average class attendance, with about twenty of them milling around in appropriate dance wear. There was the casual audience, of course, but Kuroo never counted those - they were mostly here for the start and end of each class, and would drift off quickly enough once the practice really got underway. His eyes easily picked out his class regulars - Nishinoya, Semi, Sugawara, Kiyoko, Matsukawa – and the few foreigners that had trickled in ever since the Nekoma Dance Studio channel started picking up in traffic. A couple of regulars from the other classes, some new faces, and – Kuroo’s attention snagged on a well-built man chatting with Sugawara. The newcomer was muscular, with a frame that befitted an athlete more than a dancer. Even his posture had a solidness to it that spoke of a firm step. His expression was frank and open, brown eyes betraying a bit of trepidation – nerves? Clearly, he was a friend of Sugawara’s – maybe his boyfriend, even…?

Kuroo shook himself out of his observation, amused at himself. There was time enough to ask Sugawara directly about his hunches later – class wouldn’t start itself, after all. Clapping his hands, he grinned as everyone’s attention refocused on him.

“Hey, guys! I’m Kuroo Tetsurou, you may call me Kuroo.” He waited as the light applause faded off. “Thank you, thank you. Now, in case you aren’t sure if you’re in the right room or got the schedule mixed up, this is one of the Advanced classes. Translated, it means we’re going to be having a blast. Nothing overly technical, but this one’s going to be _fast._ Last chance to run for the hills, or switch to Yaku’s class just across the corridor.”

A few chuckles went around the room, and Kuroo spied Sugawara’s friend twitch a little before the silver-haired man clamped his hand around his companion’s upper arm. No one moved though, and Kuroo grinned, rubbing his hands together. Teaching new choreography could be a bit of a headache, but there was always a rush in watching others perform something he had put together, and he had faith in his regulars putting on a good show at least.

“Fair enough. For this set of classes, we will be doing a routine to Chris Porter’s The Water Dance.” Whoops and hollers colored the air and Kuroo laughed gleefully, rolling his shoulders. “Yup, I’ve been talking about putting together a choreo for this for ages, and I think you guys will find this pretty damn fun to dance. Now, before we get down to the learning bit, lemme give you a preview of what you guys will be doing by the end of next week.”

As the opening bars of music echoed throughout the small space, Kuroo felt his consciousness shift inwards, limbs already loosening in anticipation of the dancing ahead. His routines weren’t always the most technical Nekoma offered, but Kuroo’s dances always had an edge of refined showmanship to them. He prioritized fluidity in his choreography, arranging sequences that flowed easily from one move to the next.

‘The Water Dance’ routine highlighted this, at a quicker tempo Kuroo hadn’t played around with for a while. His recent routines had catered to the requests of online commenters, who had fallen head over heels with the ‘sensual-not-sexual’ style of dancing he tend to use in R&B songs. As Yukie once remarked, Kuroo used hip rolls in his routines more than any other choreographer in Nekomata’s hire, his movements selected to complement the suggestive mood of the music rather than show off skill. Coupled with his half-lidded gazes and inviting smirks, the views on his slower routines skyrocketed  with dozens of comments stacked under them, talking about everything but the actual dance, much to Kuroo’s exasperation.

It was, he reflected, nice to teach something slightly out of his normal comfort zone. While there wasn’t anything wrong with the more laidback routines, he had missed the elastic beats of more up-tempo music, familiar muscles contracting and relaxing as he threw himself wholeheartedly into the routine. Ending with a sly butt wriggle (because he was still, well, himself), he grinned at the enthusiastic response from his class.

“Looks like something you wanna learn? Better say ‘yes’ –no backing out now.” Kuroo moved over to the music player, stopping the music. “Alright, let’s start with a couple of quick warm ups before we really get into the first half of what you’ll learn today. Space yourselves out, ensure you’ve got room to move around a little. For those of you who are just watching, please move towards the far wall, so as to not obstruct the mirror.”

As the students started moving into their preferred spots, Kuroo waved at Akaashi as the slender dancer started packing up to leave. They generally didn’t record the actual classes, just the final results after hours of practice. “Yo, thanks for recording. Sure you won’t stay and try this one out?”

“Maybe on Thursday, Kuroo-san. I’ve got to iron out a couple of kinks in my own arrangement for ‘Here’ and a paper to write before I drop by Bokuto-san’s class later. Besides,” Akaashi’s smile, while small, was no less devious. “I think you’ll find Sugawara’s friend adequate distraction.”

Kuroo followed Akaashi’s look to where the dark-haired man had positioned himself near the back, apparently having managed to convince Sugawara to allow him to remain as far away from the wall-length mirror as possible. If he had seemed nervous earlier, the discomfort was practically radiating off him now. Akaashi clapped a hand on Kuroo’s shoulder. “Good luck.” 

“…I’m going to actually need it to teach that guy how to dance, huh.” 

“Oh, good luck with that too.” 

Akaashi was out of the studio before Kuroo managed to come back with a smart retort. Grumbling under his breath, Kuroo ambled back to the front of the class. “Everyone good? Not gonna knock into your neighbor?  Ok, let’s start by rolling your head. Really rock it on your neck like so, one, two, three…” 

Once the warm-up exercises were done, Kuroo wasted no time in demonstrating the moves which comprised the beginning sequence of the Water Dance. Slowed down, the moves weren’t particularly difficult – the trick of this particular routine lay in linking each move smoothly to the next while keeping in time with the frenetic rhythm of the song. Kuroo had created this routine to showcase the energy and personality of the person dancing it; a large part of the dance’s appeal would rely on how confidently it was danced. Awkwardness and uncertainty would telegraph across if the dancer didn’t commit to the moves he or she was executing.

In line with his class plan, today’s class would be devoted to familiarizing the students with the steps - syncing the dance to the music and refining the style of the routine would come much later during the week. Kuroo kept an eye on his students in the mirror, exaggerating arches and hand flutters as he explained how high each arm should move in the rotations, how many steps had to be taken before the drop to the knees. Tiny lenses followed his every movement - Kuroo was used to the phone recordings by now, even encouraged it. Most of his students would use it for their reference when they were practicing at home, and it wasn’t as if the videos were particularly sordid or incriminating anyway.

Sugawara’s friend wasn’t holding a smart phone or any sort of recording device, looking a little slack jawed where he stood. Kuroo pointedly moved his focus on to the next person, feeling a small wave of sympathy for the guy. If Kuroo had to guess, he was very likely dragged here by Sugawara, and right into one of Nekoma’s harder classes to boot. While Nekoma’s classes weren’t the most expensive in Tokyo, the price of a single sit-in session wasn’t cheap either, and Kuroo was getting the distinct feeling the mild-mannered man would rather be seated with the rest of the class-watchers than standing where he was.

“Annnnnd that’s it. Just remember – you really want to connect each move to each other. Kind of like blood within the body, a continuous circuit. Got it?” A couple of nods and hums of agreement. “Ok then, let’s do a run-through then, just to get you guys used to the steps.”

His regular students took to the routine quickly, as Kuroo expected they would. For the most part, everyone seemed to be able to grasp the basics of the routine, even the stiffer ones in the back row. They would probably end up flailing a little more when they tried this at the song’s original speed, but they had another two classes to get used to the steps after all. Inadvertently, Kuroo’s attention kept wandering back to Sugawara’s friend, clumsily contorting into positions he was obviously unused to. He wasn’t the worst in the class by far – there were others who were more awkward – but there was something eye-catching about his earnestness, despite being clearly out of his element. It didn’t help that he was easy on the eyes, a fact only augmented by thick thighs and muscular forearms. If this guy wasn’t some sort of athlete, Kuroo would eat the music player.

Kuroo pulled his attention away from the back row and refocused on his students at the front of the class, calling out a quick reminder to twist the hips before moving into the next position in order to minimize the strain on the body. Eye candy aside, Kuroo still took his job very seriously, priding himself on his professionalism. Sugawara’s friend was not the first good-looking person to take his class, nor would he be the last. He was, however, Kuroo’s student - if he intended to see this through, Kuroo would ensure Friend-san would be able to at least nail the bare bones of this routine down. As to nailing Kuroo himself, well, that was a fantasy better saved for much, much later. 

As per usual, Kuroo hung around after the end of his class, chatting amiably with Kiyoko as he waited for any queries his students may have. The studio’s policy allotted thirty-minute gaps between classes, something all the choreographers appreciated as downtime for questions and extra practice time for some of the more complex routines.

He was just re-explaining the mechanics of the twist-and-drop to Semi when he spied Sugawara coming up to him from the corner of his eye, friend in tow. Interest piqued, Kuroo sent Semi off with a friendly pat on the back before turning towards the two men, one eyebrow raised. “Yo, Suga. Why do I get the distinct feeling that you’re up to something? 

Sugawara laughed, eyes crinkling. The fair-haired boy had been coming to Nekoma even before the dance studio had gained its current online popularity. Sugawara’s dancing was neat and supple, and he had the flexibility Kuroo’s choreography often demanded. More importantly, the psychology student was considerate and personable, making him immensely easy to talk to. Kuroo had gone on for a meal with him a couple of times – it was refreshing to be able to vent his annoyances openly, and actually receive decent advice.

It didn’t look like Sugawara was here to give him advice at the moment though. “Nothing bad, I promise. I just wanted to introduce you to one of my oldest friends. Daichi, Kuroo. Kuroo, Daichi. I had to twist his arm to get him to come with me today.”

“Koushi!” The pink staining the other man’s face didn’t look like it came entirely from exertion. “Um, hi. I’m Sawamura Daichi.”

“Kuroo Tetsurou.” Sawamura’s grip was firm and warm, unsurprisingly. “How did you find the class?” 

Sawamura groaned, low and heartfelt. “I don’t know how you dancers cope. I thought I had decent stamina, but my hips are going to hurt so hard tomorrow, I swear.”

“Ohoho, you don’t say?”

Sugawara giggled, and Sawamura’s blush deepened as the realization of what he had said sunk in. “I- um. I mean-”

Kuroo took pity on him. “It’s not really a stamina problem - dancing merely exercises a range of muscles sports don’t necessarily use. I assume you are an athlete, play for some sport?”

“Yeah, I’m on the university’s volleyball team. Wing spiker.”

“Hey, that’s pretty cool. I used to play volleyball when I was younger, before I got into dancing. Takes a lot of power to play that, so that’d explain your arms and thighs at least.”

Sawamura _could_ indeed get redder, Kuroo thought, charmed.

Sugawara took pity on his friend, and intervened. “I’m really glad to finally see you tackle ‘The Water Dance’ by the way – I’ve been curious as to what you had planned ever since you posted that teaser online.”

“Yeah, it’s been in the works for a while now. I’m planning to do a series of up-tempo songs after this, just to shake things up a little. Got a couple of ideas up my sleeves that I’m really looking forward to planning out properly. Who knows, maybe I’ll give Bokuto a bit of a run for his money.”

“Well, you know where I’ll be when you hold those classes. Though if today’s routine says anything, I’m probably going to struggle when the time comes.”

“Nah, you did really well. As did you, Sawamura, for your first time.” Kuroo chuckled. “Just your luck, dropping in on one of the harder classes we have here.”

“Yeah, just my luck, if ‘luck’ goes by the name of Sugawara Koushi.” The red staining Sawamura’s face had faded considerably as he shot his friend a good-natured glare. “If there’s one thing I’ve learnt though, it’s that I’ve severely underestimated how tough dancing actually is. You guys make it look so easy." 

“He really liked your dance for ‘’She Knows’.” Sugawara’s face was practically angelic. “The one with a gajillion body rolls? I think he favorited it on Youtube.”

“ _Koushi!_ ”

Kuroo laughed, clapping Sawamura on the shoulder. “Is that so? That one is one of my all-time favourites, so I commend you on your good taste. Seriously, it’s a compliment to us when you say we make dancing look easy: when done right, it _should_ look effortless. Don’t worry – keep turning up for classes, throw in the odd practice or two at home, and I’ll have you dancing ‘The Water Dance’ by next Saturday, just you wait.”

Sawamura hesitated, fumbling a phone out of his pocket. “Um, about that. If it isn’t too much trouble, I didn’t record the earlier demonstration, which I probably should have done. I don’t suppose it would be possible for you to redo it?...”  

Kuroo glanced at Sugawara, who definitely had a video copy of him dancing earlier. Sugawara merely smiled at him cheerfully. Sawamura, bless his soul, was looking more and more nervous as the silence stretched. “If it’s too much trouble, it’s alright, really-”

“I’m onto you, Sugawara Koushi.” Kuroo pointed a finger at Sugawara, eyes narrowed. “And I don’t know what you’re planning, but I’m kind and I’ve got some time, so I’ll let it slide. And no, Sawamura, it’s not a problem, don’t worry about it. Got your camera on? I’ll slow the routine down a little more so it’s easier for you to follow.”

Repeating the class routine, along with explanations, ate up the rest of the thirty-minute interval, and by the time Kuroo ended, other people were slowly streaming into the room, taking care not to interrupt the three of them near the front. Kuroo caught Kaori’s curious look as the other instructor went to set up the music for her class, shooting the other dancer an apologetic grin.

“Right, as fun as this has been, we do have to vacate this space for the next class. I’ll see you two on Wednesday?”

“Yup, I’ll be sure to drag Daichi along. See you then, Kuroo!”

As Sugawara hauled his sputtering friend out, Kuroo shook his head in amusement as he headed over to the staff locker room. Sugawara was definitely up to something; Kuroo had known him long enough to be sure of that. He would have to be on his guard – Sugawara’s plans, while well intentioned, were not necessarily the best carried out. He still shuddered every time he remembered the fiasco with Asahi Azumane – Kuroo was lucky he was still on speaking terms with him, given how spectacularly things had ended.

Still… a smile tugged at Kuroo’s lip as he recalled how endearingly pink Sawamura had gone. At the very least, he’d have something, or someone to look forward to for the rest of the week.

\---

 

An unseen bell chimed a tinny sound as Kuroo pushed the glass door open, the cool air immediately sweeping the humidity of the world outside off his shoulders. The interior of the modest café was quietly busy, the low murmur of voices complementing the industrious chugs of the coffee machines and milk foamers. Dropping off the backpack at his usual table, Kuroo joined the short queue at the counter. The barista working the cashier grinned at him cheerfully when it was his turn. “Kuroo-kun! Gonna have the usual?”

Reaching out to ruffle the bright orange hair, Kuroo chuckled at the resulting squawk. “Hmmm, how about surprising me? It feels like a spontaneous kind of day.”

Hinata made a face. “No coffee, right? Gwaaaah, I’ll let Kenma do the thinking this time; I don’t really know all the stuff we have yet. Just you wait, Kuroo-kun - one day, I’ll make a drink so good, it’ll knock your socks off, even if you’re not wearing socks!”

“I look forward to the day. Just let me know when, I’ll even bring socks in just for you. How’s the training going?”

“I’m doing really well! Kenma-kun’s helping me a lot. And I’m really fast too; like lighting!” Hinata’s chest puffed up with pride. “Moniwa-kun says I might be even be able to start making the basic drinks soon.”

“That’s good – keep it up, Shrimpy.”

Returning to his table, Kuroo curled into the plush sofa-chair, legs dangling over one of its cushy arms. Unzipping his backpack, he pulled out a slightly battered looking laptop, settling it on his lap as he started it up.

Drumming his fingers as he waited for the laptop to load fully, he grinned at the slight figure approaching his table, distinctive pudding-hair barely bobbing as he brought over a tray loaded with a mug and a plate of sandwiches. “Not something ice-blended, huh?”

“It’s cold enough outside today.” Kenma had a neatness to the way he did things, all economical movements as he moved the mug and sandwiches off the tray onto the table.

Kuroo reached out for the mug, sniffing at it curiously. “Hmm, is that peppermint I smell? I’m touched – it’s not even near Christmas yet.”

Kenma rolled his eyes. “Peppermint is not solely reserved for Christmas.”

“Wow, look at all that sass today.” Taking a sip at the warm beverage, Kuroo closed his eyes, humming his pleasure as the chocolate melted over his tongue, spiced with peppermint and orange peel. “Mmmm, very, _very_ nice. I’d rate this nine out of ten,” he called to where Kenma was bringing the tray back to the counter. “One mark deduction for sassiness. Or maybe just half a mark – this is that good."

Kenma didn’t even bother responding to that, seating himself in the other seat as he pulled the tray of sandwiches closer to himself, the other hand digging through his apron pocket for the Nintendo DS he always kept there. It was standard routine for the two of them – most Tuesdays, Kuroo would drop by Kenma’s part-time job and order something to drink. Kenma would bring it over, along with his lunch for the day and they’d spend the hour-long break together. There was very little actual talking, the two childhood friends comfortable with the productive silence that tended to permeate these sessions. Kuroo usually took the time to work on his study assignments, while Kenma made progress on whatever game he was playing at the moment.

Today though, Kuroo glanced at the other boy as his fingers flew across his keyboard. “How’s Final Haikyuu Quest going? Still stuck on programming that final boss’s damage algorithm?”

Kenma looked up from his console, lips pursed. “Futakuchi managed to figure out a way around that by accident last Thursday. We’re reworking the interaction choices with the characters this week.”

“Sounds good. You guys still on schedule? Has Tsukki killed Futakuchi yet for endangering the assignment? And who do I have to bribe to get a cameo in this game?”

“We’re on time so far. And you’re in the game already anyway; you don’t need to make multiple appearances.”

Kuroo fistpumped in victory. “Awww yeah, did the demon character get approved? I totally rock those horns by the way; Yamaguchi has great design aesthetic. I’ll get to try this out once you guys have handed in the completed project, right?”

“Ah.” Kenma turned back to his console. “Shoyou insisted he gets first dibs.”

“Hey, as long as I get to try it eventually, I’m good. Don’t let me be the one to home-wreck the relationship of bro-roommates. ‘Broommates’?”

Kenma made a noncommittal sound, and Kuroo shifted his focus back to his laptop, squinting at the screen. Ten or so minutes passed before Kenma looked at Kuroo again. “How’s your work going?”

“Hmm? Oh. Market analysis is still kicking my ass – this paper is going to be the death of me, I swear. So, nothing new there. Dance is same-old, same-old; no problematic students this week.” Kuroo paused as Sawamura’s face swam into his memory. “Oh yeah, there was this new guy who came in with Sugawara to the ‘Water Dance’ class. Sawamura Daichi, I’m pretty sure that’s his name.” An involuntary smile tugged his lips upwards as he recalled how adorably flustered the other man had been. “Short, dark hair, thighs like whoa, very honest-looking. Athletic too – he said he was a volleyball player.”

Kenma hummed. “Sounds like Shoyou’s Daichi-san.”

“Shoyou’s _Daichi-san_?”

The barista shrugged, focused on his gaming. “He was the captain of Shoyou’s high school volleyball team.”

“Huh. Knowing Shrimpy, he’s probably talked your ear off about Sawamura then.”

“He’s mentioned Daichi-san several times. Daichi-san’s even dropped by our apartment before.”

“Of course; Hinata seems to be quite the people magnet. So… I suppose you would know a bit about Sawamura as well, hmmm?”

“You’re fishing very blatantly.”

“C’mon, you know that if I asked Hinata, he’d describe Sawamura as ‘gyun!’ and ‘bwah!’ and all those weird adjective sounds of his. Kenma. Kenmaaaaa.”

The smaller boy sighed. “Shoyou said he was a really dependable captain. It seems Daichi-san was steady and patient. Calm, scary sometimes. The ‘team dad’, so to speak.”

Kuroo dropped his head back against the armrest, eyes falling closed as he tried to apply Kenma’s list to the image of Daichi in his head. “Yeah, I can kind of see that – he does seem to be that kind of trustworthy guy. Anything else?”

“You could just talk to Daichi-san yourself.”

“Technically, very technically, I could, but it feels like it’d be weird to talk about non-dance matters, especially since he’s currently in my class. Kind of as if I were compromising my professional integrity by flirting or something.”

“Are you worried you’ll end up flirting with Daichi-san then?”

“Nah. At least, not during class time.”

“Then isn’t it just like getting to know a friend better?”

A pause, then a wry chuckle as Kuroo ran a hand across his face. “Touché. I guess I’m overthinking it a little, huh?”

“Rather.” Fingers stilled on the small game console, as the game design student levelled a curious look at his friend. “It’s unexpected. You’ve only just met him, and I didn’t think Daichi-san would be your type.”

“Hey, I resent that - I’ve never discriminated against hotness.” Kenma was partially right though; Kuroo’s partners were usually quite similar to Kuroo himself in terms of interests and personality. As quiet as Kenma was, he was an uncanny judge of character - if he said Sawamura didn’t fit Kuroo’s typical dating profile, chances were, despite how delicious Sawamura’s body promised to be under his clothing, he shouldn’t have registered on Kuroo’s attractiveness radar at all. But something about Sawamura Daichi _was_ attractive, and Kuroo couldn’t quite put his finger on exactly what it was.

Still, as intriguing as Sawamura may be, he remained,at best, a newcomer whom Kuroo had talked to for only about twenty minutes, give or take - barely enough time to form a credible impression of a person. Plus, between the part-time diploma, dance classes and the occasional competition, Kuroo found little time to worry about anything more serious than flings, much less take a chance on a proper relationship.

Kuroo did want to get to know the athlete better though. Nothing wrong with that - he was generally on friendly terms with most of his students, after all, and Sawamura didn’t have to be any different from Sugawara or Kiyoko.

“Anyway, I’d better start focusing on my work; this paper isn’t going to write itself.” Tapping at his laptop to wake it up from the sleep mode it had slipped into, Kuroo squinted at the screen. “Can’t afford to get overly distracted by cat memes and end up pulling an overnighter again.”

“Hmm.” Kenma levelled a last, thoughtful look at his friend, but kept silent as he turned back to his game.

\---

 

“One, two, three and four and five and roll your head to the left, hip out and scissor hands, one, two.” Kuroo kept an eye on his class’s progress through the wall-length mirror. “Grab neck, sliiiiide down, two, three, four and snap straight, knees apart, jump! Two, three. Rip-and- _twist_ , elbows out, right leg to the front, heel-toe-heel-toe, arm pump, arm pump into the back arch, arms out.” Straightening, he pushed sweaty hair out of his eyes as he turned around. “Think you guys got that?”

A general sound of assent, punctuated by a few groans, rippled through the room. Kuroo laughed, clapping his hands. “Looking pretty good from here. Let’s go through that one more time before we try it with the music, yeah? Back to the top.”

He moved easily in between the rows of dancers, calling out instructions as long fingers tapped lightly on arms and legs and shoulders, either guiding them down or up a few inches, or nudging them inwards or outwards until they were angled just right. He pressed down a little on Matsukawa’s shoulder – “lower in the knees”, grasped Kiyoko’s wrist - “higher, but just a fraction”, patted Sugawara’s waist - "you’re not twisting enough” and- oh.

Sawamura had clearly put in some serious practice time. Eyes narrowed, he looked intensely focused as he worked on keeping up with the rest of the class. His dancing was the furthest thing from sinuous or fluid; there was a jerkiness to Sawamura’s movements that made each step he executed sharp and detached. Overlaid with a veneer of uncertainty, it was almost erratic, struggling to chase the beat rather than moving along with it.

Yet, there was a sturdiness that grounded Sawamura’s presence. It granted the athlete an unusual grace, highlighted as it was within Kuroo’s rippling choreography. The changes it brought to Kuroo’s routine was striking - it would probably be even better once Sawamura had mustered enough confidence to properly own his dancing.

For now, Kuroo reached for Sawamura, touching his elbow gently. The athlete startled, brown eyes widening as they met Kuroo’s as the dancer grinned, tapping the elbow outwards.

“Open up on the chest pop, and stretch your arms a bit more.”

He moved on before he got too distracted observing Sawamura, complimenting one of the returning new students on her posture. In general, the class was shaping up nicely, the attendance rate looking promising with only two visitors from the previous class missing. At this rate, the final dance presentation should look good, if Kuroo said so himself.

“Alright, let’s see how well you guys will do with the music on. The song is just a little faster – if you make a mistake, don’t stop, just keep going. Just a reminder: at “Yeah, they rap” line – it’s super important that your ‘scissors’ are straight. Straight and powerful, but smooth. Almost as if you’re a strong jellyfish. Ok? Ok. I can hear you snickering, Terushima - jellyfishes can be strong, alright. After the run through, I’ll show you the second half of the routine; hand on heart, I promise it’s easier and much, much sexier.”

Sawamura lingered after class again, hovering around the edges of the room as Kuroo dealt with the other students who had questions. Sugawara was nowhere in sight, which was a little surprising; Kuroo couldn’t help the occasional curious (and discreet) glance at where the man was standing, hands tucked in his pockets.

Once Kiyoko had thanked him and left, Kuroo shot Sawamura an apologetic grin. “Sorry for the wait. Suga didn’t stay back with you today?”

“He said he had something important to do.” Sawamura’s wry tone conveyed just what he thought about Sugawara’s ‘something’, and Kuroo laughed.

“Fair enough. Was there something you wanted to ask me?”

Sawamura ducked his head a little, looking a little sheepish. “Ah, I guess it’s kind of a habit of mine – I just wanted to see if you were free to review my dancing, give some direct feedback on what I need to improve. I’d understand if you’re in a rush to leave though.”

“Nah, it’s fine. That’s what I’m paid for anyway. Do you want to do it with the music?”

“Uh, I guess that’d be best, right?” Sawamura’s chuckle was self-deprecating. “I’m still a bit slow though, maybe about half a step behind…”

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up over it. I did say this was a fast song, even by dancing standards. It’ll take a while to get used to the beat, but with practice, it’ll come. You’re doing really well actually, for a non-dancer – I’m pretty impressed.”

“Really?” Sawamura’s smile lit up his face, transforming it from pleasant-looking to ridiculously gorgeous. “That’s a relief. I didn’t want to look _too_ bad at it, especially since Koushi said you’d likely record this class for Youtube.”

“I _am_ planning to upload a video of this class, and I have complete faith that you will be a credit to my teaching, just you wait and see.” Kuroo paused, looking over at the mirror. “Tell you what, let’s run through the routine, no music. I’ll spot what you need to correct. C’mon, let’s scootch to the mirror.”

It wasn’t completely for Sawamura’s benefit that Kuroo decided to check through the routine step by step; the dancer could admit that much to himself as he watched the athlete dance with as much appreciation as critical observation. The same steadiness Kuroo had observed earlier still coloured Sawamura’s movements, clearer now that he was a little more confident in what he was doing. He was still stiff, but deliberation characterized every move, making the irregular rhythm seemed intentional, rather than unskilled. _‘A dependable captain’_ , Kenma had said. _Steady. Calm._

Outwardly, Kuroo grasped Sawamura’s arm, arresting him mid-move. The skin beneath his fingers was warm, muscles corded beneath his touch. “Here. You have a tendency to pull your elbows in at this part. It’s more of a surge-out – you should push it outwards just like so-” His other hand took Sawamura’s other elbow, moving it. “Feel that compression in your back?” He tapped in between Sawamura’s shoulder blades. “That’s how out you should be pushing your elbows. It’ll make the move easier. Lower your knee a little,” A light touch to said knee, “Bit more; you want almost but not quite 90 degrees, there you go. Transfer the weight from the heel to the toe, then back to the heel as you move it, yes, like that. Then pull your arms in, pump. Yep, like that. Easier, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Sawamura breathed. Up close, his eyelashes were longer than most girls Kuroo knew. Lips slightly parted in focus and cheeks flushed from practice, Sawamura may not be the typical type of handsome, but here, in this moment, he was beautiful, in every way Kuroo defined that word. A strange thought to associate with him whose body represented force and controlled strength, but there was elegance in the lines of his features, the curve of his eyes and lips, the plane of his jaw.

Kuroo pulled back before Sawamura could catch him staring. “Ok, let’s try that again then, from the jump.” They ran through the routine another two times before Kuroo declared it decent. Sawamura looked a little doubtful, rubbing at his chin.

“I don’t know, my version of it still looks kind of blocky. There’s virtually zero flow to it, if I’m being honest with myself.”

“I’d put it down to inexperience and your own personal dance style. Everyone’s going to look different dancing this – that’s how I choreographed it to be. Looks more natural, and highlights what you’re best at.” Kuroo looked at Sawamura speculatively. “Okay, I don’t mean to pry, so feel free to shut me down, but what made you decide to attend my class? Did you lose a dare to Suga or something?”

Sawamura snapped the towel he was using to wipe his face at Kuroo, chuckling as the dancer yelped. “I’m not sure if I should be more offended that you think I’d make a bet against Koushi or that you think I’d lose.”

“Well, it’s Suga. I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

“True enough. It’s nothing that suspicious though - Koushi’s just been pestering me to accompany him to one of these classes for a while now. But I finally caved to his wheedling due to curiosity. I think I’ve mentioned it before, but I’ve watched Koushi practice in our apartment and he’s linked me to a couple of Nekoma videos. I figured it might be fun to try dancing at some point, but it’s been pretty busy, what with volleyball and class assignments, you know?” Daichi flashed a quick grin. “He finally caught me with some free time this week, and well, you know how the rest goes.”

“Ahh. Suga showed you Nekoma videos, huh? A few of mine, I know, since he said you liked ‘She Knows’.”

Sawamura groaned. “Did you have to remember that?”

“Of course I remembered - any compliment about my dancing is welcomed feedback. Something about the body rolls, wasn’t it?” It was practically second nature to drop into the long, slow waves that were the signature of that particular routine. Try as he might, Kuroo couldn’t help the slow, satisfied smile that curved around the edges of his lips at the sharp intake of air, loud enough to be heard in the stillness of the studio.

“I, um. Well. They look really hard. The rolls! To do, I mean. Oh God.” It was unfair how cute Sawamura looked when flustered, hands flailing slightly. “I swear I can string a proper sentence together. But in all seriousness, body rolls look like I’ll need to break a couple of bones in my body to actually do.”

“Yeah, they may look sexy, but they aren’t as easy as a lot of people think they are. It’s all core control and coordination.” Temporarily distracted by the teaching opportunity, Kuroo pulled his t-shirt up, gesturing at his torso. “You lead with the chest, up and out – see how out I’m pushing it? The further out it is, the larger the roll’s gonna be. Then you drop it heavy, and push the movement down through your body, down to the butt, to the knees. The roll should crunch the abs – that’s that creates the illusion of the ‘flow’.”

Whatever Sawamura was going to say was cut off by Konoha’s voice bouncing off the walls as the owner of said voice stuck his head into the room. “Oi Kuroo, stop showing off and get your ass outta here, I have a class to teach in this room!”

“Your jealousy is showing, Konoha, and it ain’t pretty,” Kuroo yelled back. Ignoring the rude finger Konoha waved in reply, he shrugged apologetically at Sawamura. “He’s right though – there’s a class here at 1:30. We have to clear out.”

“Oh.” Red was definitely Sawamura’s colour, Kuroo decided as the other man rushed to stuff his things into his duffel bag. “I’m so sorry – I didn’t mean to keep you here this long.”

“Don’t worry about it – part of my job, remember?”

“I don’t suppose you’d want to go grab lunch or something? I feel like I need to redeem myself somehow - I really don’t usually resemble a tomato twenty-four-seven.”

“So it’s just me and my provocative nature, huh? I’m touched, Sawamura, I really am.”

“Modest too, very humble.” Sawamura snorted, even as his eyes crinkled laughingly. “Dancing’s just really new for me. In terms of comfort zone levels, I’d say it’s pretty far out there. And you…you’re really good at it. I can’t imagine how silly I must look to you.”

“Hey, hey, don’t say that. If anything, I’m honoured that you decided to give my classes a go.” Students milled around in the corridor, streams of conversation buzzing around them as they made their way towards the front of the studio. Sawamura’s shoulders, broad as they were, bumped against his own companionably, and Kuroo found himself mirroring Sawamura’s grin. “Plus, pink is a pretty fetching shade on you.”

He couldn’t help laughing as Sawamura coughed, startled, the hand scrubbing at his face failing to hide the tint darkening his skin. “Okay, being serious again. It’s really impressive how you’ve committed to dancing; obviously, you’ve practiced quite a bit. Can’t have been easy with your schedule, but I guess anyone who has the skill to handle Hinata’s brand of enthusiasm has to have a measure of patience and tolerance.”

“Hinata? As in Hinata Shoyou?” Sawamura’s expression was an open book as he blinked at Kuroo. “You know him?”

“Well, I’m old friends with his roommate, and I go pretty regularly to the café he works at.” Kuroo shrugged. “Kenma says Hinata respects you a lot.”

“He’s a good kid, just really excitable sometimes.” The front of the dance centre was fairly empty, most of the people being at classes, or in the corridors peeping in through the doors. “So, lunch?”

Kuroo grimaced, his grin turning apologetic. “I’d really love to take you up on that. But I’ve got an appointment with my university’s finance department that can’t be put off.”

“University?” If anything, Sawamura looked even more surprised. “You’re a student as well? On top of all,” a vague wave in the direction of the studios, “this?”

“Yeah, in a way. I’m doing a part-time kinda thing, evening classes mostly. Apparently, I need to go in and sort out something about my fees payment for this semester.”

“Oh ugh, that can take up quite a bit of time.”

“Yeah. Cross my heart, I’d much rather do lunch, but I can’t put this off. Ask me out again another day; I promise to try to say yes. Second time’s the charm, right?”

“Third time, actually, but I’ll hold you to that.” The flash of a quick grin, and Sawamura was out the main doors, leaving Kuroo kicking himself internally for the poor timing.

\---

 

Kuroo was on his way out of Nekoma when he noticed Bokuto leaning in the doorway of one of the smaller studios, golden eyes observing the class inside. Ambling up to the other dancer, he peered through the glass and grinned knowingly. “Ahh. Which song is this?”

“’Dancing’, that Elisa song.” Bokuto’s stance was relaxed, arms folded loosely across his chest. He turned away from the class to shoot his friend a big smile. “It’s mad-cool, did I ever let you hear it, bro?”

“Yeah, I remember the one.” Bokuto had practically jammed his iPod’s earphones into Kuroo’s ears every single time he bumped into the other dancer that particular week, yelling excitedly about ‘how awesome this song is, bro – Akaashi’s going to blow this one right out of the park!’ “Lots of space for expression, that song. Which section’s he using?”

“That bit near the end, with the dramatic build-up.” Inside the studio, Akaashi was doing the walk-through for the routine, explaining each move and its segue as he demonstrated it with his body.

Kuroo settled himself on the other side of the door frame. “Not sitting in?”

“Nah, I don’t wanna distract him; he’s really focused on this one.” Bokuto rubbed at his head sheepishly. “You know I’m not too good at being quiet and stuff.”

“You were doing a pretty good job of it when I came by.” Kuroo whistled softly as Akaashi dropped to the floor with a roll that ended with his body balanced on one of his knees, the other leg stretched out behind him as an arm rose towards the ceiling. “Damn, that’s some gorgeous extension right there.”

“I know, right?” They watched in appreciative silence as Akaashi smoothly pushed himself back up onto the balls of his feet, moving into a languid spin with his entire torso, his arms curved as if hugging an invisible partner. The routine was slower, but no less powerful and demanding than Kuroo’s own choreographies. Nekoma’s studios were soundproofed well enough that the music didn’t trickle out into the corridor, but Akaashi’s dancing was expressive enough to convey raw desperation and supplication in every line of his body, which, if Kuroo’s memory served him right, was what the song’s mood was about.

“Y’know, I wish more people appreciated Keiji’s kind of dancing. Like, I don’t get it – look at him! It’s fantastic and so, so beautiful, and honestly, I tell my students to switch to his classes sometimes because I can’t dance, not like that, I really can’t and the world really should just understand just how amazing his dancing is.”

“Shhh, not too loud, Bo.” Kuroo couldn’t help silently agreeing with his friend though. Akaashi’s dance style, more contemporary than hip hop or street, wasn’t the kind of flashy dancing you’d do in clubs or at parties to show off. The other dancer told him once that he selected songs based on their lyrics, looking up the translations online to get a sense of their meaning before he choreographed a routine around them. As such, his sequences were always lyrical, telling stories with every controlled bend and dip. Yet, despite being one of the most senior choreographers at Nekoma, his videos were amongst the least viewed on their online channel, viewers usually going for the more popular songs or choreographers such as Bokuto and Oikawa. At eight students, the class was smaller than Kuroo’s. Bokuto’s own classes easily pulled twenty to thirty students on average, with his more popular classes having their own waiting lists.

“Sorry. I just, I can’t.” Bokuto heaved a huge sigh, slumping against the glass. “I just don’t get it, you know? I want people to see how cool he is. I even got Oikawa to dance in one of his routines once just to boost the online thing, but that didn’t really work. Like, why aren’t they getting it? Just look at him – it’s perfect. The moves are perfect. _He’s_ perfect.”

“Hey now,” Kuroo nudged Bokuto’s ankle with his foot. “You sure you really want others to see how ‘perfect’ he is, huh? Give you a run for your money?” 

Bokuto frowned. “Well…no. But I trust Keiji, ok? No one in the world’s gonna lure him away that easy. Besides, he could get the normal fans! Like mine or yours or something. I just…I worry sometimes that he’ll give up, or lose motivation, or get discouraged. I don’t want him to start hating dancing, like Tsuchiyu.”

“He’s not going to get discouraged, Bo.” Kuroo grinned slyly. “He ain’t you.” He dodged Bokuto’s indignant kick, laughing quietly. “Ok, ok, calm down – what happened to not disturbing Akaashi’s class, huh?”

“Bro, I was being _serious._ ”

“Look at him.” Seemingly unconscious of the tiny ruckus outside, Akaashi was explaining a step to his students, who were standing up and copying his movements. Even without the sound, it was clear that the choreographer was thoroughly absorbed in teaching, hands gesturing as he repeated the swing of an arm, the bend of a leg. As the two dancers outside watched, Akaashi nodded, a brief smile of satisfaction flitting across his face as he observed his students before he moved into the next dance step in the routine.

“I don’t know about you, but from here, he looks like he’s loving dancing just fine.” Kuroo cocked his head. “If I had to guess, he probably prefers the smaller numbers anyway, so long as he doesn’t get flack for it from the boss-man.”

“…Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Bokuto offered him a sheepish grin. “Thanks. Guess you still know these things better than I do, huh?”

“Just the perks of being born with common sense and great observational skills.” Kuroo chuckled. “Plus, I don’t have ‘the worried boyfriend’ filter on twenty-four-seven.”

“Hey, I usually leave the worrying to Keiji; he says I tend to overthink stuff when I do it.”

“Case in point.” Kuroo gestured lazily at Bokuto, who huffed good-naturedly, kicking at Kuroo’s ankle again.

“Low blow, bro. It’s not like I do it on purpose or anything.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Akaashi’s been good for you though – it’s been awhile since you’ve really slipped into your emo-mode.” They both looked at the other dancer again, one affectionate, the other contemplative. “Who’d have thought between the two of us, you’d be the one in a steady relationship first?”

“I know, right? It’s kind of weird, but nice. Very nice.” Loud, easily excitable and mercurial Bokuto with perpetually calm and blunt Akaashi – no one had expected them to get along at all when the latter had first come to work for Nekoma, much less so well. Yet the two of them had easily fallen in beside each other from the get go, slipping into each other’s spaces with minimal fuss and fanfare.

Their relationship had progressed from friends to lovers so rapidly, even Kuroo had been taken aback. Oikawa, ever the busybody, had asked Akaashi once in the locker area what it was that had attracted him to Bokuto. The dancer’s lips had quirked upwards, his eyes travelling across the room to settle on the figure fastidiously spiking up his hair in the mirror. “I don’t fully understand it myself, Oikawa-san. Bokuto-san…I can’t explain it, but being with him completes me. He makes my heart dance, and I’d be a fool to let that slip away.”

Now, Bokuto raised an eyebrow at Kuroo, mouth widening into a knowing grin. “Hey hey hey, speaking of relationships, what’s this I’ve heard about you eyeing some dude in your class?”

Kuroo shrugged easily. “He’s easy on the eyes.”

“Easy on the personality too, huh?”

“He seems nice, I’ll give him that.” More than nice actually, but Bokuto didn’t need to know that yet. Kuroo had barely gotten to know Sawamura properly himself. “Akaashi told you?”

“…maybe. But I might have noticed it myself! Don’t underestimate my mad skills.” Ignoring Kuroo’s disbelieving snort, Bokuto prodded at the other dancer with his shoe. “It’s been awhile for you though; you sure you still got it?”

“Please, these skills are as fine as when I first honed them. But he’s still my student, and personal policy says he’s hands-off until further notice. And before you say it, Suguru was my one and only exception. _One_.”

Bokuto waved dismissively. “Well, he’s not gonna be your student after this week, right? The way Akaashi put it, he seemed like one of those visitor students. You can hit on him after that.”

“I don’t think he’d be around to hit on then, Bo.” Kuroo felt a brief pang in his chest at that. Once the ‘Water Dance’ classes concluded at the end of the fortnight, it wasn’t likely that Sawamura would be enrolling in other dance classes at Nekoma, much less Kuroo’s advanced level ones. Kuroo couldn’t blame him – between university classes and volleyball, he imagined Sawamura’s schedule probably was pretty tight.

“Hey.” Bokuto’s hand on his shoulder was warm, clasping his shoulder in a firm grip. “Stay positive, okay? Thinking too much about it isn’t gonna do you any good anyway. Just do your thing, talk to him, teach him your awesome dances, and let the rest happen when it happens.”

Kuroo chuckled. “Who’s the one giving advice now, huh?”

“Hey, a bro’s got responsibilities to his fellow bros in times like this. Plus, Keiji said the guy seemed pretty cool, and you know his people standards. Makes me kind of want to meet him now - what’s his name anyway? Do you think he’d wanna take one of my classes? I could teach him my signature moves!”

“Now who’s thinking too far?”

“Awww man, am I? Damn.” Bokuto made a face. “Well, you do you, bro. Go talk to him, be awesome, the works. If he’s got any taste, he’ll realize your awesomeness soon enough.”

“Bro.” They exchanged a quick high-five, grinning at each other.

“Koutarou?”

“K-Keiji?” Bokuto clapped his hands over his mouth, dropping his voice to an apologetic whisper. “I’m sorry! Were we too loud?”

“No, but you and Kuroo-san have been standing out here for a while now.” Akaashi glanced over his shoulder at where his class was taking a quick water break before looking back at Bokuto. “I was wondering if you’d like to join us.”

Bokuto fidgeted. “Ah, won’t I distract you or something?”

Akaashi sighed, an exasperated sound that contradicted the faint smile hovering over his lips. “I’ll manage. You’re more distracting outside here anyway. At the very least, you can sit and watch if you don’t want to do the dance.”

“I do! You know I always wanna dance with you, Keiji.”

The small smile widened slightly, familiar fondness softening the stern lines of Akaashi’s face. “Then come dance with me, Koutarou. You can join us too, Kuroo-san,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

“Oh, I’m good, don’t worry about me. I should get going anyway.” Shifting the bag on his shoulder, Kuroo flashed the pair a sly smirk as he started to move. “Hey, Bo? Good luck.”

“Keep your luck; I’m gonna knock Keiji’s routine out of the park.”

“Oh, good luck with that too.”

“…Touché, Kuroo-san.”   

Reaching the end of the short corridor, Kuroo glanced down at his wrist to check the time, clicking his tongue when he realized he must have left his watch in the locker room. Turning to go retrieve it, he stopped short at the quiet tableau before him. Akaashi had tugged Bokuto a little further out into the corridor, just out of sight of the studio and the low hum of conversation inside. Bokuto’s arms, long and muscular, were wrapped around Akaashi’s waist. As Kuroo watched, Akaashi, usually so aloof, reached up to cradle Bokuto’s face, thumbs caressing the other dancer’s cheeks as Bokuto leaned into the touch, smiling.

Feeling uncomfortably like a voyeur, Kuroo ducked quickly back out of sight. He could retrieve his watch tomorrow anyway – his phone would serve just as well for telling the time. Both Bokuto and Akaashi were professionals and didn’t need him reminding them about the class inside; Kuroo had no doubt that Akaashi would go on teaching his students adequately, and that Bokuto, with all his energy, would charge the quiet atmosphere with his enthusiasm.

Catching a glimpse of the intimate moment made Kuroo feel a little wistful though. Bokuto was right – it _had_ been a while since Kuroo had dated anyone seriously. Hell, it’d been awhile since Kuroo had woken up beside someone else, especially after he decided to take up the part-time diploma. Between teaching, choreographing, and studying, he had simply gotten too distracted on the career front to worry about anything remotely romantic. He still flirted around effortlessly, but never with the intention of following up.

And yet, he had been sincerely disappointed when he had to turn down Sawamura’s invitation to lunch yesterday.

If Sawamura ever decided to invite him out to grab a bite again, Kuroo resolved, he would go, some way or another. It would likely be interesting, engaging Sawamura in a conversation that didn’t revolve around dancing and how Sawamura was progressing in terms of learning Kuroo’s choreography. And if things look promising, maybe Kuroo would reconsider putting in the effort to try his hand at a relationship again.

Until then, he would enjoy the time he had teaching Sawamura, and ensure he pulled out a respectable performance of his choreography. It was, after all, the very least Kuroo could do.

\---

 

 “‘Daddy’. Why am I not even surprised?”

Oikawa didn’t bother dignifying Kuroo’s drawl with a response, eyes narrowed in concentration as he glared at himself in the mirror, knees bent as his arms moved into a series of rapid staccato pops with the bass. Dropping his things in a corner, Kuroo watched appraisingly as the other choreographer danced, cycling through several different set of moves to the music until he huffed a frustrated sigh, lips pulled into an irritated frown as he straightened up.

“Uggggghhhh. Nothing’s working with this damn part, dammit.”

“Chorus is looking good though.” Kuroo rolled his shoulders as he jogged towards Oikawa. “Okay, what have you fixed so far?”

Oikawa eyed Kuroo briefly before shrugging lightly, shuffling to the left to accommodate Kuroo standing beside him. “Just the chorus. Everything else is still kind of…somewhere.” The music restarted its loop, and Oikawa dropped into one of the sequences he was trying earlier. Falling in beside Oikawa, Kuroo loosely copied the other dancer’s steps, watching the mirror as he experimentally shuffled his own ideas into the routine. When he dropped into a slight back arch, arms curled close, Oikawa’s face brightened.

“Oh, that’s _nice_ , Tettsun.”

“Yeah, I think if you just…” Kuroo repeated the move, stretching out his arms before jerking them back, “a little ‘Matrix’ here, then a roll forward, that would segue cleanly into your finger-point.”

“Mm hmm.” Oikawa mirrored Kuroo’s movements, the move even more graceful in Oikawa’s style. “It could work. Then this into the circle…”

“How about throwing in some clapping like so - the beat’s a clapping beat anyway, and it looks more dynamic if you move the hands like this.”

“Yeah. Or hmmm, what about in the opposite direction instead? Like this?”  They ran through the short sequence quickly. “Then knee pumps? Or maybe a swing-kick?”

It was awhile before Oikawa declared himself satisfied with what they had choreographed, pulling up one corner of his loose t-shirt to wipe  the sweat off his face. “I’ll run through the whole thing again later, maybe tweak a couple of things, but this should be good in time for next week’s class.” Beaming, he raised a hand. “Thanks, Tettsun.”

Kuroo returned the high-five easily. “No big. Your students are going to love this one.”

“Of course they’re going to love it – I picked it, didn’t I?” Oikawa sniffed. “My musical taste is impeccable.”

“Riiiiight. So, how many times did Iwaizumi punch you for looping this song out loud?”

“Please, just because Iwa-chan can be a bit of a Neanderthal at times doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate good music.”

“Let me rephrase that: how many times did Iwaizumi punch you for saying you ‘got it from your daddy’?”

Rolling his eyes, Oikawa stuck his hip out dramatically. “Please, Tettsun, your jealousy is showing. Just because your daddy didn’t give you _your_ body-”

“Hey, my daddy’s genes contributed just fine to this perfectly fine physique, thanks. Besides, I thought you were supposed to be wooing Iwaizumi with your wiles, not riling up his innate violence.”

“Iwa-chan only thinks he hates this now - just wait until I’m done with it. I’ll even throw in some butt wriggles at the end as collateral.” Oikawa peered at Kuroo. “By the way, why are you here? Not that I don’t appreciate the help, but I wasn’t expecting anyone to drop in.”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “Because I have a class here today? In…” a quick glance at the clock, “Ten minutes now. Overextended your booking time again, huh?”

Oikawa didn’t even have the gall to look sheepish. “Oh, the ‘Water Dance’ classes? Not done with them yet?”

“Today’s the last class actually.” Kuroo waved at a couple of students hovering in the doorway, gesturing for them to come in. He caught Sawamura’s eyes, threw him a quick grin that widened as Sawamura returned it.

“I’ll stay back,” Oikawa chirped. “If I pick up the routine quick enough, maybe I’ll even join the video!”

“Of course you will,” Kuroo said dryly. “Better make sure you look good then.”

“I _always_ look good. After all, I got it from-”

“Okay, I may not be Iwaizumi, but I _will_ punch you if you finish that sentence.”

“Rude, Tettsun. Oh, is that Mattsun I see?” Oikawa drifted off to talk to Matsukawa as Kuroo shook his head, resigned.

The class was a little noisier than usual, as last classes were wont to be, with the students eager to run through the final routine fully. Kuroo found himself buoyed on their energy, laughing and joking around easily even as he moved amongst the lines, offering advice and fixing certain steps. Some students were still a little rigid, others a little slow, but everyone was moving cohesively, and Kuroo found himself practically radiating pride as he watched his class perform his dance.

Unsurprisingly, Oikawa had picked up the routine fairly quickly, performing the choreography with his natural flair and grace. The other dance instructor was popular, and for good reason – Kuroo had yet to see Oikawa fail at any choreography he put his mind to. From popping to the tango, Oikawa was able to pinpoint the core of what made a particular dance work, and master it.

Granted, if Oikawa was skilled, it was due to the effort he invested in his craft. It was no secret that of all the dancers hired at Nekoma, Oikawa also practiced the most. Behind a seemingly capricious personality lay a steely determination to succeed at anything he turned his mind to. His decision to retire from professional competitions and join Nekoma had initially been met with confusion and puzzlement from the dance community. But Oikawa had been firm in his choice, and that had been that.

Secretly, Kuroo suspected the reason why Oikawa had chosen their fairly small dance studio over the larger ones in Tokyo was because it was the closest to Chuo University, where one Iwaizumi Hajime, Oikawa’s forever-relationship goal, was currently studying. For all his flippancy whenever his childhood friend was mentioned, it was fairly obvious to Kuroo that Oikawa loved his Iwa-chan fiercely and was trying, in his own Oikawa-ish way, to subtly nudge the volleyball player into asking him out. It was a shame the other man seemed too obtuse to recognise Oikawa’s efforts.

Kuroo himself had only met Iwaizumi once when the other boy had sat in on one of the joint classes he had conducted with Oikawa. The other man had seemed pleasant enough at first, but had grown more and more brusque as the lesson had progressed, bordering on almost curt whenever Kuroo tried to engage him in conversation. A little taken aback, Kuroo had shrugged it off, accepting that his friend was apparently pursuing a grump. Everyone was allowed their strange quirks after all.

Now, he found himself grinning drolly as he watched Oikawa execute the trickiest part of the routine flawlessly, as if he had been practicing it for days rather than forty-five minutes. Not all of them could be dance geniuses, he supposed, raising an eyebrow at Oikawa as the dancer shot him a cheeky wink.

“Alright, we’re gonna take a quick break, then we’ll start dividing you guys into groups to practice dancing together as units, what do you guys say?” He laughed at the resounding cheer that swept through the room. “Go grab some water, cool down a little, run through anything you’re not sure of.”

Akaashi slipped into the room, camera in hand as the students chattered amongst themselves. “I see Oikawa-san gate-crashed your class at the last minute again.”

“One day, I’ll actually create something that he can’t learn in an hour.”

“Ambitious indeed. I saw him working on ‘Daddy’ earlier; did he finish the routine?”

“Yeah, kinda. I threw some of my moves into it; it’s probably going to be a collab piece.”

“Nice.” Akaashi hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe I should try that out; it’d be an interesting change of pace.”

Kuroo grinned. “I’ll buy you coffee for a week if you do.”

“In that case, I’ll have the long black from the café across the street.”

“Done.”

“What are the two of you yammering on about over here?” Oikawa, apparently finished with his practice, bounced up to them, carelessly throwing an arm around Kuroo’s shoulder. “Ewwww, Tettsun you’re sweaty, yuck.”

“So are you, so we balance out.” Kuroo didn’t bother shrugging Oikawa’s weight off, flicking a finger against Oikawa’s forehead and snickering as the other made an indignant sound. “Oh, Akaashi, I know you have Bo in your class for ‘Dancing’, but do you need one of us to film the class for you?”

“Yukie-chan’s already volunteered, but thank you.” Akaashi smiled wryly. “I guess no one really trusts Bokuto-san to record videos steadily.”

“He did manage to ruin Yaku’s ‘Bugatti’ recording – remember how pissed off he was?” The three instructors shuddered at the memory. “Oh, by the way, Akaashi’s sitting in for ‘Daddy’. Better teach it right.”

“Don’t I always? We should bribe Bokuto to join too, and Kaori if she’s free.” Oikawa sighed dreamily. “It’d be beautiful. We can all claim to have gotten it from our daddies.”

“Don’t make me regret it before I’ve even attended, Oikawa-san.”

“On that note, let’s get this show on the road.” Clapping his hands to pull everyone’s attention, Kuroo moved to the center of the studio, Oikawa still hanging off him. “Alright, everyone good? Awesome. First things first, our videographer today is Akaashi Keiji – for the newbies, he’s also an amazing dancer who teaches here – let’s give it up for him.” Hoots and cheers rose immediately. “For the ‘Water Dance’, we’re going to be doing a normal video - nothing fancy, just straight-up recording. I’m gonna sort those dancing in the video and those who aren’t planning to join into different groups. Now, it’s not compulsory for you to be in the video, so if you’re shy, or just generally don’t like the idea of popping up online, it’s a-hundred-percent ok to sit out. But let me make this clear,” Kuroo smiled at his whole class, “If you’re sitting out because you think you’re not good enough, don’t. You guys have been doing amazingly, coming straight from the choreographer himself. I’m really looking forward to watching you guys go _hard_. So, if you’re game for online fame, move up to the front. If you’d rather not, move towards the back.”

Kuroo tried not to track Sawamura as the class shuffled around. Still, he couldn’t quite squash his elation when the athlete stepped forward with Sugawara, resolution etched into his jaw. A delighted giggle tickled his tip of his ear.

“Ooh, someone’s looking awfully pleased – watching a particular someone, hmmm?”

“Suddenly, I totally understand why Iwaizumi calls you ‘Trashykawa’.” A couple of students had hung back, but two thirds of the class were standing near the mirrors and Kuroo rubbed his hands together, considering.

“So quick reminder: for those of you who are sitting out of the video, I’m gonna put you guys into groups anyway, because you shouldn’t miss out on all the fun. First group - you’ll be dancing with me. Kiyoko,” the slender girl nodded, “and…” He flirted with the idea of including Sawamura in the same group as himself, but nixed it quickly. For all his practice, Sawamura still telegraphed the stiffness of a beginner, and putting him in with the most experienced dancers would highlight that difference all the more. Also, a small part of Kuroo wanted to be able to watch Sawamura directly when the latter danced.

“Nishinoya,” he decided aloud. “ and Semi. Second group, let’s have Mari, Akanen and Terushima. Sugawara, Sawamura, Matsukawa and Oikawa, you guys are group three. Group four...”

The class dissolved into chatter quickly after the group division, each person moving off to practice syncing their dancing together with their groupmates. Oikawa and Matsukawa were wearing conspiratorial grins, talking in low whispers as they gestured wildly. Kuroo ignored them,  beckoning his group to him near the front of the studio. “Well, you guys probably already know what I’m gonna do for the freestyle bit.”

“Rolls, rolls and more rolls.” Kiyoko sighed indulgently and Kuroo turned his grin in her direction.

“Exactly. I’m thinking hip swivelling especially - those work great with the song’s refrain. Now, obviously, you don’t have to follow what I’m planning to do - I trust you guys to sort your stuff out fine.”

“I’m good with rolls,” Nishinoya said cheerfully. “Maybe I’ll even do it on my knees! It’s been awhile since I’ve gotten to use Rolling Thunder all proper-like.”

Kuroo briefly left them to it as he wandered from group to group, watching their planning and offering suggestions of his own. Oikawa shooed him off when he made to approach his group. “We got this, Tettsun - I’m in this group after all! Now go away, we’ll surprise you later.”

“Don’t let him show off _too_ much, guys,” Kuroo called to the people milling around the dancer, and Sawamura turned around to shoot him an unusually mischievous look before turning back to where he appeared to be testing out something Kuroo was pretty sure he hadn’t taught the class. Laughing, he tossed Sawamura a mock salute before going back to his rounds around the room. Once he was satisfied that everyone was settling with their groups comfortably, he returned to his own group to hash out the arrangement for their turn.

By the time practice was up, there was a crowd already gathering at the glass doors, peeking inside excitedly. Akaashi gave him a nod to signal that he was ready with the camera, and Kuroo called the class to start moving to the sides of the room to make room for the dance presentations in the middle. The first group, the one with the class instructor, always went first and Kuroo hovered by the music player, waiting until his group were comfortably spaced out in the center of the room before pressing the play button and allowing the music to wash over him.

It was easy to sink into the rhythm pulsing through the song, and Kuroo allowed it to push and pull him into the flow he had woven between each beat, seamlessly blending each move together with each bend and flex of his body. Somewhere, someone hooted and he was vaguely aware of cheering along his periphery, but Kuroo’s awareness only extended as far as his group members, feeling the thump of their steps hitting the hardwood floor in time with his, the light impact resonating from the soles of his feet up through his body. Dancing would never not be exhilarating - if men could not fly, at least, Kuroo thought, at least they could _dance._

The singer was inviting the listener to ‘do the water dance’ in low, sultry tones by the end of the routine and Kuroo indulged himself in a slow smirk, hips swaying from side to side sinuously as he dropped to his knees. He capped off his performance with a strategic bite on his bottom lip as one hand slid down his thigh, barely managing to maintain his expression as the whistles and catcalls increased in volume. Akaashi raised an amused eyebrow at him, and Oikawa’s face blatantly telegraphed the acceptance of the challenge Kuroo had inadvertently thrown down. A quick glance at Sawamura saw the man looking slightly dazed, and Kuroo felt a brief rush of gratification as he moved away towards the crowd, calling for the next group to get ready.

The next two groups were the non-video students, who pulled off the routine decently with minimal errors to the encouraging calls of their classmates. The second performance group were solid as well, working together as a unit to create a circle in their formation for the freestyle portion of the song. As Oikawa gathered his group together, Kuroo eyed the expression all four dancers were sporting, including Sawamura. Especially Sawamura, he amended - who would have anticipated how well deviousness would sit on those frank features? The glint in his eye and upturned lips promised something Kuroo didn’t even want to hazard a guess at, given that the group contained one Oikawa Tooru, who was (fortunately or unfortunately) all too capable of a variety of things.

Then the music started up, and Kuroo couldn’t look away as the group started dancing. Oikawa had clearly made some minor style changes and adapted some of the choreography into group steps rather than individual performances, reducing the difficulty of the original moves while making all the dancers look well-synced, including Sawamura. Only an experienced professional would notice that Sawamura’s routine was easier than that of his groupmates, Oikawa’s tweaks helping to mask the athlete’s inexperience and rigidness admirably while remaining subtle enough to extend the veneer of Oikawa’s polished flair to the rest of his dance mates.

But Kuroo’s eyes weren’t trained on Oikawa. Instead, they followed Sawamura’s every move, each strain and flex of muscles under tanned skin. He didn’t bother suppressing his satisfied grin as Sawamura matched the pace of the others in his group, going through the moves with an intensity that, while still not particularly fluid, worked with the vibe of the song nonetheless. If Kuroo’s style was supple and lithe, Sawamura’s was power and force, transforming the choreography into something completely different from Kuroo’s original dance.

The grin only widened in appreciation when the athlete, along with the other dancers in the group, pulled up the hem of his t-shirt, revealing the grooves and planes of well-sculpted abdominals to the enthusiastic roar from  the rest of the class.

Then, as the song wound down to its suggestive refrain, Sawamura spun into the centre and, back arched, threw his entire body to the floor, biceps straining as they pressed unhesitatingly against the hardwood and propelled him back onto his feet in a clean move. Slack-jawed, Kuroo clapped along with the rest of the class, eyes wide as the group moved to the side, grinning victoriously as they high-fived each other. Oikawa sidled up to Kuroo, face smug and knowing.

“Did you like that?”

“You are still a terrible show-off, as per usual,” Kuroo muttered under his breath as the next group prepared to start. Oikawa sniffed.

“Like you would know – you weren’t looking at me at all, which, by the way, _rude_. Mattsun mentioned had your eye on a particular guy.” Oikawa wriggled his eyebrows. “And it looks like he’s right on the money.”

“Shhh, the next group is starting.” They were, but Kuroo didn’t want Oikawa following that train of thought too audibly either. The other choreographer may have been ostentatious at times, but he was too observant for Kuroo’s liking. Oikawa merely hummed in satisfaction.

“S’about time, Tettsun. I was wondering if you had gone celibate.” Laughing, he ducked Kuroo’s irritated swat, bouncing over to where Akaashi was. Shaking his head, Kuroo refocused on his students, pushing all other thoughts from his mind.

Once everyone had presented their group dances, and Akaashi had started packing up the camera, Kuroo called his class to attention one last time. “Before you guys leave, let me thank you guys for attending this round of classes. Each of you has brought a part of your own unique style to this choreo, and it has been my privilege to be able to share this with you all.” He sketched a quick bow, trying not to grin too hard at the clapping and whoops. “For the regulars, I’ll be seeing you around in Nekoma’s other classes, maybe even in my future ones – keep an eye out for that; I’ve got _plans_. For the newcomers and visitors, I hope this whets your appetite for the fine art of dance and introduced you to Nekoma’s style of classes. My last request is that you think of this routine every time you hear ‘The Water Dance’.” Kuroo shot everyone a wicked smile. “I hereby absolve myself of all responsibility if the urge to dance suddenly seizes you in public. Once again, thank you, Kuroo out.”

As people started to pack up and leave, Kuroo gave into the urge to talk to Sawamura one last time, sauntering up to where he was standing with Sugawara. “Yo. Both of you were pretty damn good earlier.”

Sugawara beamed. “Good to know all that practice paid off. You have no idea how many times Daichi here kept dragging me out to the living room area to ‘check if he was doing it right’. Guess he really wanted to impress y-”

“Thank you for the compliment!” Sawamura hastily jabbed his elbow into Sugawara’s side. “It’s nice to know that I didn’t mess the whole thing up.”

Kuroo decided to overlook Sugawara’s coughing. “I’m not going to lie and say you looked like you were a professional, but you definitely didn’t ‘mess’ anything up. If anything, I was particularly intrigued at how you gave the choreo your own spin.” He tilted his head, considering. “Though, you _could_ have been a bit smoother on the hand scissoring.”

“Perfectionist,” Sugawara snorted, poking Kuroo in the ribs. “Wasn’t the flying fall Daichi did cool though?”

“Oh, is that what you guys called it? Yeah, that. was pretty damn amazing. Really well-executed too.” Kuroo turned to grin at Sawamura, who ducked his head, looking pleased. “Almost pains me inside that Oikawa managed to teach you that so quickly.”

“He didn’t – it’s kind of a volleyball thing for receives.” Sawamura smiled wryly. “Coach makes us do them around the gym as penalties for losing games; everyone on the team can probably do it in his sleep. I just mentioned to Oikawa-san that I remember seeing you do something similar in another video and that I could reproduce it. He ran with it.”

“In another video?” Kuroo blinked, brain running through the series of dance videos he had online. “…you watched ‘Wriggle’?”

“I did say he watched a lot of your videos.” Sugawara dodged the jab easily this time, pulling a face at Sawamura. “Seriously Daichi, you need to stop doing that.”

“I will when you stop _mentioning unnecessary things,_ Koushi _._ ”

“Hey, I think it’s pretty necessary for me to know these things. It’s always a great ego boost to know people like you like watching me dance.” Smirking, Kuroo enjoyed Sawamura’s flustered expression before he glanced at the clock. “Ah, looks like I’ve got to dash. Suga, Oikawa’s probably going to be teaching ‘Daddy’ next week, so you might want to sit in on that. Sawamura, it’s been great teaching you – I’m glad you chose to attend my class over, well, anyone else’s.”

Sawamura’s handshake is as firm as Kuroo had expected, warm and sturdy. “Thank _you_ for putting up with my inexperience – I thoroughly enjoyed this, aches and all. it can’t have been easy for you to teach a complete newbie.”

“S’all part of the job – no one is born amazing at dancing.” One last lingering look at Sawamura, a quick smile at Sugawara, and Kuroo stepped away to pack up his things. By the time he had gathered up the music player and towels, everyone, including Sugawara and Sawamura had left, the silence of the studio ringing in his ears as he exhaled.

It had, all in all, been a great class, and despite the satisfaction of successfully teaching a routine, Kuroo was a little sorry to have it end. At least, he consoled himself, there would be a Youtube video, and no one would be around to judge Kuroo if he re-watched Sawamura perform his ‘flying fall’ a couple of times.   

\---

 

The next week saw Kuroo rushing into Nekoma a little later than usual, hair sticking out in every direction as he ran to the instructors’ locker room. Bokuto looked up as Kuroo slammed the door open, guffawing at the state of his friend.

“Nice hairstyle you’ve got going on there, Kuroo!”

“Shut up,” Kuroo grumbled, one hand pulling his jacket off as the other tried to flatten the most unruly parts of his hair in vain. “Fucking alarm clock ran out of battery. Then, the train got delayed.”

“Ouch.” Bokuto pulled a sympathetic face as Kuroo tossed his duffel into his locker. “Well, at least you’re not _that_ late kinda - you can technically say you’re just on time, yeah? Oh, by the way, have you seen your students yet?”

Kuroo grunted, hopping around as he struggled to get his dancing shoes on. “No, but I’m expecting a smaller crowd this round. Oikawa’s teaching ‘Daddy’; I reckon most people will go for that.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not always about the numbers; sometimes, it’s about _who_ attends, right?” Bokuto nodded wisely, as if he had imparted some kind of sage advice which was lost upon Kuroo. “Here, I filled your bottle for you.”

“You,” Kuroo said fervently as he caught the tumbler Bokuto tossed at him, “are the best bro _ever_. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Bokuto’s hoots of laughter were muffled by the door as Kuroo ran to the studio he was assigned, skidding to a halt at the entrance as he threw himself inside the tiny space. Bending over to catch his breath, he allowed himself a few large huffs of air to even out his breathing before looking up to smile apologetically at his class.

“Ah, I’m so sorry I’m a little late, there were some…difficulties…” his voice trailed off as he stared, wide-eyed at the sight of Sawamura leaning casually against the back wall of the studio. A quick scan of his students – around ten in all – produced no sight of Sugawara.  

So _that_ was what Bokuto had meant in the locker room.

Straightening, Kuroo closed his eyes and pulled his composure together, valiantly resisting the urge to neaten up his hair. There would be time for surprise later – he was already running a little behind schedule and professionalism wouldn’t allow him to delay class any later.

“Anyway, I’m terribly sorry I’m late – won’t happen again, cross my heart. Now, in this series of classes, I’ll be teaching you guys something I choreographed to Human Nature’s version of ‘Be With You’…”

\---

 

Sawamura completed the ‘Be With You’ classes with aplomb and what Kuroo was starting to recognize as his signature style – stiff and a little awkward until one looked past that to marvel at the quiet intensity that charged each movement at its core.

Then he turned up again the week after. And the week after that.

Weeks eventually stretched into one whole month. To be honest, Kuroo couldn’t remember what it was like before that comfortable presence in the corner of the studio became a fixture in the studio, with his large arms and even larger smile whenever he managed to nail something Kuroo taught.

(He didn’t think he’d ever want to ever remember.)

\---

 

Ducking into the inviting warmth of the café, Kuroo allowed the exhausted groan he had been holding in to escape as the closing doors muted the grumble of the storm outside. Catching a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the glass, he grimaced – his hair, usually wildly messy, hung around his face, still dripping with the rainwater that had soaked into his clothes and traced water trails down his backpack. He did his best to wring the worst of it out in the carpet at the doorway before venturing into the café space properly, but if Tsukishima’s displeased expression was anything to go by when he shuffled to the counter, he wasn’t as successful as he’d hoped.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, painfully aware of the puddle that was starting to form under him. “It’s been…a very long day.”

Tsukishima eyed him, hands on his hips and lips pursed. Probably judging him, Kuroo guessed. “Put your jacket where the umbrellas are; it’s utterly useless at this point. I’ll get Aone to grab you one of the towels in the back. Just remember to return it before you leave. And you better order something more than 300 yen.”

“You are the literal best, Tsukki, really. I’ll take hot cocoa.”

“Call me that again, and I’ll kick you right back you into the rain.”

The towel was a little small, but Kuroo carefully ran it through his hair and over his arms and legs, trying not to wince as he surveyed the available seating area. Given the rain outside, he wasn’t surprised to see all the tables and couches occupied, but he couldn’t help the disappointment that lurched through him nonetheless. Tsukishima passed him his order before looking out at the café as well.

“Best to look into sharing tables, I suppose.”

“Looks like it.” Most of the regular tables were full, with no extra spaces, but a couple of the couch-tables along the front of the café had one-person occupants, and Kuroo scanned them to find a friendly face who might look generous enough to share their space. His eye fell on a familiar silhouette, curled into his couch with a laptop and headphones and he sagged with relief. Grabbing his cup, he shuffled his way past the other tables and chairs until he was in front of the person, tapping him lightly on the shoulder to get his attention.

“Hey, stranger. Mind if I sat here?”

Sawamura blinked up at him, polite confusion quickly melting into a warm smile. “Kuroo. Sure, go ahead – I don’t mind in the least.”

“Oh, thank God.” Kuroo couldn’t help the long exhale of air wrung out of him as he gingerly sank back into the comfortable cushions. “I think I would have cried if I had to go back out into that storm.”

“Yeah, it’s coming down pretty hard.” Sawamura looked Kuroo over, brown eyes thoughtful and the dancer fidgeted, feeling a little self-conscious.

“Take a photo; it’ll last longer.”

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.” Sawamura ducked his head in embarrassment. “It’s just…wow, this is going to sound awkward, but it took me a double take to realize it was you.”

“It’s the hair.” Kuroo made a token attempt at swiping his bangs back, giving up the effort as a lost cause as they fell right back into his eyes. “Bad enough that most of it already hangs in my face twenty-four-seven; when it’s wet, it all kind of droops. At least when it’s dry, I can pass it off as semi-fashionable. I probably look like a drowned rat at the moment.”

“It’s not bad – it’s actually kind of…cute? No seriously.” Sawamura chuckled at Kuroo’s incredulous face. “It makes you look younger. Has no one ever told you that before?”

“No one who has lived to tell the tale, no.”

“I shall cherish this near-miss on my life then.” Sawamura hummed, peering at Kuroo thoughtfully. But it isn’t the hair. It’s just….huh. You just seem a little…subdued? Tired? I can’t put my finger on it, but you seem a little less ‘you’.”

Kuroo took a sip from his cocoa, eyeing Sawamura over the brim of the beverage. “Not sure if that’s supposed to be an insult or a compliment.”

“It’s not – you always look good. I mean, not that I look or anything-” Sawamura caught the teasing twinkle in Kuroo’s eyes and groaned. “Asshole. You had me worried that I really pissed you off by accident or something.”

“Oh, I’m totally pissed, so angry right now like you can’t believe.” Kuroo’s poker face melted easily under Sawamura’s unimpressed look and he shifted into a more comfortable position on the large sofa-chair, ignoring the twinge of pain that shot up his spine. “But you were saying?”

“What _was_ I- oh, right.” The vague veneer of worry crept back into Sawamura’s expression. “Are you okay? I’ve all seen you quiet and focused before, but you look quiet-drained now.”

“Well, I _am_ kinda drained, so you’d be right on the money on that.” If anything, the worry in Sawamura’s face became more pronounced; it was almost sweet.

“If you want to rant it out, I’m all ears.”

Kuroo chuckled, dropping his head back to rest against the plush backrest of his seat. “It wouldn’t be professional for me to complain to one of my students, would it?”

“I’m not your student right now,” Sawamura pointed out, shrugging his broad shoulders. “And I’d like to think we are, well, friends too… right?”

Weariness prevented Kuroo from fully savouring the pleasure that thrummed through him at that. “That we are. Seriously though, I’d feel crappier if I ended up interrupting whatever you’re working on.”

“No worries about that; I’ve finished most of what I came here to do, actually. I’m really just bouncing around on Youtube while I wait for the rain to stop.” Sawamura sat up, keen eyes studying Kuroo when the dancer failed to suppress a wince while shifting positions yet again. “…Back injury?”

Kuroo gaped at him. “How did you know?”

“When you’ve been a volleyball player for years, and a captain for a good portion of that time, you learn to immediately notice familiar symptoms. You’re actually telegraphing the discomfort pretty obviously - I can’t believe I didn’t notice earlier.” Sawamura was already getting up and approaching his chair, expression concerned. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing big, just a little twist. I just slipped up while trying something out earlier. Don’t worry, it’s not that bad – it really only hurts when I move in a particular way, but I’ll be as right as rain before the next dance class.”

“Unbelievable,” Sawamura muttered, hands already on Kuroo’s shoulders. “Are all you intense-types health hazards?”

“Hey, I’m on it, ok? I’m probably fifty-percent Salonpas right now, s’all good - _ack_!” Kuroo jerked as Sawamura firmly pulled him forward, carefully tugging Kuroo’s shirt upwards partially to expose his lower back and the quilt-work of muscle-relief patches Yaku had helped him apply. “Wow, Sawamura, I didn’t know you were into exhibitionism, give a guy some warning before you whip this kind of kink out in a semi-public space -”

“Your t-shirt is damp. And we’re in a fairly secluded corner, but I recommend you don’t yell too much and draw everyone’s attention to ‘my kink’.” Positioned as they were, Sawamura’s body blocked the two of them from curious eyes. Sawamura’s hands were as warm as his smile, large and decisive as dexterous fingers moved against Kuroo’s back, pressing down experimentally in specific spots. It was almost ticklish, Kuroo decided, closing his eyes as he leant against Sawamura’s stomach, breathing in the faint whisper of pine body wash.

“I left my spare clothes at Neko- _owwwwwfuck_.” He bit back the torrent of expletives as one of Sawamura’s thumbs dug into one of the larger bruises, sending thunderbolts of pain splintering outwards beneath his skin. Above him, Sawamura made tsk-ing sounds.

“Looks like it really was a twist. Not a terrible one, but I’d take tomorrow off if I were you.”

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” Sawamura’s hands were now rubbing soothing circles around the areas that ached, and Kuroo fought to keep the mutinous righteousness in his voice. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not actually masochistic. I’m off teaching duty until Friday – that’s two days of downtime.”

“ _Proper_ downtime with adequate rest and stretches.” Gently pulling Kuroo’s shirt back down, Sawamura re-seated himself across Kuroo with a stern face, arms crossed. “I don’t know what you do apart from dance, but whatever it is, it’d better not add more strain to your back.”

“Only a business lecture, but it’s at night and I’ll bring a support pillow to prop my back up properly. I’m serious – this isn’t my first rodeo.” Kuroo shrugged at Sawamura’s incredulous expression. “It may look effortless and fun, but injuries are as common in dancing as they are in volleyball, or most serious sports, for that matter. You just don’t notice because you’re not meant to.”

“Fair enough,” Sawamura conceded. “Uh, I’m sorry for doubting you and for, well,” he gestured at Kuroo’s shirt, flushing a little. “I just thought…well. It was uncalled for, and I should have taken your word for it.” He scrubbed at his face briefly. “It’s just that I’ve had to hammer sense into injury-prone players before, most of whom consider their health a secondary priority to their skill training. Yelling at them to watch out for their own wellbeing’s almost instinctual at this point.”

“Hey, it’s cool. And I truly appreciate the concern.” The warmth of Sawamura’s hands was still imprinted along Kuroo’s skin and he mustered enough energy to smile reassuringly at the other man. “If I were a volleyball player, I’d want a captain like you. Can’t imagine you standing for any shit in your team.”

“I was alright, nothing spectacular.” The embarrassment colouring Sawamura’s face was adorable, and if he were seated any closer, Kuroo would be sorely tempted to lean in and prod the tiny furrow between his eyebrows away until it disappeared. Instead, he sipped at his cocoa until the urge dissipated; looking up when he remembered something he had been meaning to ask the other man for a while.

“By the way – you don’t need to answer this if you don’t want to – but I’ve wondering, and well, curiosity has been getting the better of me. Why are you still coming for dance classes? I figured the first time was because you were already invested in that particular routine, and wanted to see it through to the end, but then you kept coming back. Not that I don’t want you there because I do, I really enjoy teaching you. But you must be pretty damn busy, what with volleyball and university classes and now dance in the middle of all that.”

Sawamura chuckled. “Believe it or not, I actually found myself playing better volleyball after your classes, so I figured it’d be good to keep at it for a bit, see if it helps improve my receives.”

“Guess those aches in your hips paid off, huh?” Kuroo privately mourned the immunity Sawamura seemed to have developed towards Kuroo’s teasing; the other boy merely laughed at the sly remark, no traces of pink tinting his tanned skin. “But it does make sense, I suppose. Some of the less rigorous dance moves are actually great for loosening up muscles, which do benefit sportsmen, I suppose.”

“It’s not that hard a habit to keep up either: Nekoma isn’t too expensive, Koushi goes there and…” Sawamura coughed. “Guess you’re not going to be rid of this plank of wood anytime soon.”

“Thank god for that.” Kuroo caught Sawamura’s gaze, holding it until a yawn forced him to break eye contact. “Ugh, I should get started on my reading – I’ve got a paper due at the end of the month, and I’m already slightly behind schedule. You are a pretty distraction, Sawamura, but a distraction nonetheless.” Pulling his backpack into his lap, he extracted a folder stuffed with thankfully dry papers before dropping it back to the ground. Across him, Sawamura watched him with interest.

“And you say I have a busy schedule. You teach full-time, don’t you? How do _you_ find time for university?”

“Diploma,” Kuroo corrected him as he pulled out a set of lecture notes, neatly highlighted in sections. “I’m doing a part-time diploma in business management. I’ll always be a dancer, but it’s always good to have a back-up plan.”

“That’s impressive. I’m studying-”

“Biochemical engineering, I know.” Lifting his head, Kuroo tossed Sawamura a wink. “Suga told me once, when we were talking.”

“Why am I not even surprised.” Sawamura snorted. “Well, this ‘pretty distraction’ is going to go back to Youtube for a bit.”

“Don’t watch what I wouldn’t watch.”

“Is there anything you wouldn’t watch though?”

“Touché.” Kuroo threw Sawamura a lazy salute as he began reading his notes in earnest. It was hard to stay focused – the respite from his back ache, the warmth from both the café and the drink in his belly, as well as the quiet presence of the man across him were cumulating in a bone-deep fatigue, heavy and inviting. Kuroo strained to plough through the information, blinking slowly in weakening defiance of the drowsiness weighing his limbs down and coaxing the words on the page before him into fanciful swirls that danced at the back of his eyelids…

And Tsukishima was shaking him awake. Kuroo jerked back into alertness, flinching as he jarred his back with the sudden movement. He blinked owlishly at the bespectacled barista,who smirked down at him. “It’s almost closing time, Sleeping Beauty.”

Something soft slid into his lap as Kuroo pushed himself up into a sitting position, and he stared down at it. A sports jacket, the one Sawamura had been wearing earlier. A glance across him confirmed that its owner had already left. Tsukishima harrumphed.

“Sawamura-kun left about thirty minutes ago.”

There was no hiding the fond smile that stole over Kuroo’s face as he buried his face in the warm material. Sawamura one, Kuroo zero.

But this, this was a game Kuroo was all too willing to lose.

\---

 

“Hey.”  Two hours of dancing, and Sawamura still appeared barely out of breath as he jogged up to Kuroo, towel slung around broad shoulders. “Looks like your back’s doing fine.”

“Yup, as expected.” Kuroo threw him a smug grin as he picked up the music player. These little after-class conversations were quickly becoming a habit, one Kuroo was all too glad to cultivate. “Almost as good as before. Oh yeah, your jacket’s in my locker – lemme go grab it. Thanks for the loan by the way. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem; you didn't need to fall sick on top of that strained back.” Sawamura fell easily into step with him as they walked towards the instructors’ locker room. “So, it’s pretty late and all and I was wondering; do you want to grab dinner together? Doesn’t have to be anything fancy,” he added quickly when Kuroo glanced over at him, “just a quick bite somewhere, maybe.”

“Well, when you put it that way, how can I resist?” Kuroo kept his tone lightly teasing, even as elation bubbled through him, leaving tingling pleasure in its wake. “There’s a new okonomiyaki place nearby. Haven’t been there yet, but Yaku said it’s pretty good.”

“Oh, that place just across the cinema? Yeah, I’ve heard good things about it as well.” Sawamura grinned at him. “I’m game if you are.”

“Just give me a couple of minutes to stash my stuff and change.”

“I’ll go change my clothes as well. Meet you out front?”

“Sure.”

He must look a sight, Kuroo supposed, silly grin, bright eyes and mussed hair as he ran a damp towel over his skin before changing into his street clothes. He raised silent thanks to the powers that be that his choice of clothing that day was fairly flattering– a slim-fitting jacket that highlighted the trimness of his waist, coupled with soft jeans and a red t-shirt.

Glancing into the nearby mirror, he ran a comb through his hair a couple of times, attempting to style his ever-present bangs into something artful rather than messy. Yaku, who had been scrolling through his phone on the communal bench in the middle of the room, looked up in interest. “Huh, hot date?”

“Nah, just dinner with a student.”

“A dinner that has you actually being worried about your appearance?” Yaku snorted before going back to his phone. “Definitely a hot date. Remember to use protection.”

Sticking his tongue out at Yaku (who pointedly ignored him, the bastard), Kuroo gave his hair up as a lost cause, readjusting the jacket once more before grabbing his bag and heading out. Just play it cool, he reminded himself – there wasn’t any reason to be flustered just yet. For all he knew, Sawamura may have just invited him out on friendly terms – that’s what friends did all the time. Assuming this was a date without any actual confirmation was a mistake Kuroo refused to make.     

Despite that, Kuroo’s enthusiasm couldn’t help sinking when, upon reaching the entrance of the dance centre, he saw Michimiya standing with Sawamura, the both of them chatting animatedly. The lithe girl smiled at Kuroo as he approached the pair, reaching up to ruffle his hair and laughing when he grumbled half-heartedly, swatting at her hand.

“Awww, grumpy cat, tired from class? I should upload a video of you zoning out after classes; see if people still say you’re ‘wild and sexy’ during your finest moments.“

“Please, Yui-chan, I’m always wild and sexy. Can’t help being born this way.”

Sawamura chuckled, rolling his eyes as he accepted the jacket Kuroo handed him. “Keep telling yourself that, Kuroo. By the way, ‘grumpy cat’?”

“Yup! Kuroo-kun’s so kitty-like sometimes, it’s a wonder he wasn’t a cat in a past life.”

“Huh,” Sawamura looked at Kuroo speculatively. “I suppose you are kind of right in that. So, gru-”

“Go on, Sawamura. Finish that, I dare you.”

“Grump~y cat~” a voice sang before arms curled around Kuroo from behind, Oikawa dropping his head on Kuroo’s shoulder. “What’s going on here, and am I invited?”

“Daichi said he’s going to dinner at the new okonomiyaki place,” Michimiya offered cheerfully, “and I’m planning on joining him. Do you guys want to come along? I heard the restaurant is pretty good.”

“Um, actually, I’ve already invited Kuroo to come earlier. To dinner, I mean.”

“Ooh, excellent! I’ll get to grill him on why you’ve been attending his classes instead of mine. Which, by the way, I still intend to get an explanation for, so don’t think you’re off the hook.”

Sawamura looked conflicted as Michimiya hooked an arm through his companionably, beaming. Sighing internally, Kuroo squashed his disappointment and summoned enough charm to grinning disarmingly at Michimiya.

“Hey, I can’t help if my classes are more exciting than yours, Yui-chan. But if you don’t mind me third-wheeling your conversations, I’m game.”

“In that case,” Oikawa chirped, bumping hips with Kuroo as he moved to stand beside him. “I think I’ll invite myself to this little dinner party too. The more the merrier, right Tettsun?”

For all Kuroo’s expertise on reading people, the expression on Sawamura’s face was hard to decipher. Kuroo shot him what he hoped was a reassuring smile before jabbing at Oikawa with his elbow. “That generally doesn’t extend to pests, sorry.”

“Please, Tettsun,” Oikawa sniffed as Michimiya started shepherding all of them towards the stairs. “If anyone here resembled a pest, it’d be you. Just because some people are kind of blind and think you’re ‘sexy’…”

“Oh, so when these same people say you’re real ‘pretty’ and all, they’re clearly handicapped in terms of eyesight, gotcha.”

“Those fans are merely _misguided_.”

The evening outside was chilly enough to nip at ears and noses, and Kuroo tugged his scarf up a little higher. Weariness was a dull burn in his knees and shoulder blades as he pulled his jacket around himself a little tighter as he idly listened to the banter of the pair in front of him. From what he could tell, Michimiya really was doing what she had promised to do and was badgering Sawamura over his dance class choices.

“So, he invited you out to dinner?”

Kuroo glanced at Oikawa out of the corner of his eye. “Huh?”

“Sawamura. He finally manned up enough to ask you out, didn’t he?” Oikawa’s sigh fogged in the night chill. “For all her sweetness, Yui-chan is sometimes terrible at reading the situation.”

“Hey, maybe it wasn’t ever supposed to be a date, just a casual after-class dinner between friends. Which it was, actually: an after-class dinner invite.”

“Please, Tettsun, I wasn’t born yesterday.” Oikawa smiled crookedly at him. “I thought I’d keep you company at least, so you don’t feel left out, just in case. It sucks to be the third wheel – wheels should always come in even numbers, don’t you think so?”

The way Oikawa said that, with the unspoken wistfulness weighing down the words, sounded like it came from experience. Kuroo felt a wave of sympathy for the other dancer. “What has Iwaizumi gone and done now?”

The brunette hummed, “Nothing of note. He’s still being a little dense, as he always is.”

They fell silent after that, concentrating on keeping up with the two people in front. From his unobserved vantage point, Kuroo allowed his eyes to sweep across Sawamura appreciatively. Even from the back, Sawamura looked delectable, the thick bomber jacket doing little to hide the other boy’s build, with broad shoulders tapering down to a trim waist. Sawamura was muscular in a way Kuroo himself would never be, thighs thick and solid, arms large without being bulky. Worse still, the man had the built-in personality of a saint.

He swallowed a resigned sigh at the comfortable way Michimiya was leaning into Sawamura, the man not shying away from her either, his posture telegraphing nothing but ease at her closeness. Purposefully shifting his focus elsewhere, Kuroo allowed his mind to drift, soaking in the sounds around him, a cacophony of rhythm that tapped out the heartbeat of the city. A faint tune drifted over from one of the brightly lit electronic shops – one of Arashi’s new singles, judging from the upbeat melody. Smiling whimsically, he allowed his feet to move in time with the beat, small relaxed steps as he weaved easy footwork into his walking. Oikawa caught onto what he was doing quickly enough, adding his own complementary dancing to the mix.

The steps became more and more complicated, the both of them getting caught up in what they were doing, hands stuffed into pockets as their feet flickered, nimble and light, over uneven pavement and concrete while Ohno Satoshi crooned about seizing the bright future with both hands. Then a third pair of feet joined in, and Kuroo flashed a grin at Michimiya, who laughed in delight as they wove impromptu choreography together, chasing soft music between the honk of cars and the rustle of trees.

Looking up, Kuroo caught Sawamura watching them, watching him, brown eyes soft and fond. Impulsively, Kuroo reached out a hand to him, palm outstretched and inviting. A pause, brief hesitation, then Sawamura’s fingers curled around his own, the calluses on them scraping against Kuroo’s skin as Kuroo pulled him into their midst, laughing. Their hands remained loosely clasped as Sawamura shuffled along with them, blatantly reusing dance steps he had learnt in Kuroo’s classes.

By the time they had executed an impromptu ending, all of them were flushed with exertion and grinning unabashedly. At Kuroo’s breathless laughter, Sawamura glanced at him, eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement.

“Guess I should have expected that, huh?”

“Can’t help it.” Michimiya’s smile was bright enough to power a whole room. “When I see people dance, I feel like dancing as well.”

“Don’t look at me - Tettsun there started it.”

“The beat was good, you asking me to pass something like that up?”

“God forbid you ever walk past one of those electronic stores with twenty-four-seven dubstep music blaring.” Sawamura’s gaze might have lingered… Kuroo shook his head, chastising himself for wishful thinking. Oikawa glanced at him, a shrewd expression flickering across his countenance, but he kept quiet all the way to their destination, their small group hurrying in before the chill started setting in.

The okonomiyaki restaurant was partially full, and they had to squeeze their way through to one of the corner tables. A comfortable silence settled across them as they ordered, then focused on cooking their own okonomiyaki. It wasn’t until they were all tucking into their food that Michimiya looked up.

“Oh, I can’t believe I forgot! I know Daichi knows Kuroo because, well, classes and all, but what about Oikawa?”

Sawamura made a noncommittal sound, swallowing his food before he answered. “I was a part of his dance group for one of Kuroo’s classes. And one of my volleyball teammates has mentioned him before, but that’s about it.”

Oikawa smirked. “Well, I think I know Sawamura pretty well, Or, his volleyball prowess, at least.”

“Oh?” Sawamura’s eyebrows climbed a little. “You’ve watched me play before?”

“It’s hard not to, considering you’re one of Iwa-chan’s precious teammates on his volleyball team.”

“Iwa-chan?...Oh, Iwaizumi? Fair enough then,” Sawamura allowed, smiling a little. “Iwaizumi’s one of our strongest spikers; I daresay we’ve got a good shot at the podium this year.”

Oikawa puffed up in pride. “Of course you do; you have Iwa-chan on your side after all. He’s been playing volleyball since forever.” He sighed nostalgically. “He used to make me toss balls to him when we were younger so he could practice hitting them. He could probably spike in his sleep then.”

“He probably could still do it now, actually. A lot of the newbies look up to him, and it’s easy to see why – he’s practically the ‘Team Mom’, what with how responsible he is. Pretty popular guy.”

Oikawa’s lips twisted slightly. “I guess Iwa-chan does have his unique set of charms.”

“He talks about you occasionally,” Sawamura offered.

“Does he praise my dance skills? Or maybe cute I am?”

“Actually, he says you’re a pain in the ass. Insufferable too.”

Oikawa produced a high-pitched screech, whipping out his phone and firing off a rapid text, presumably to Iwaizumi as Kuroo and Michimiya stared at Sawamura. Under their wide-eyed looks, his poker face crumbled, the athlete chuckling as he took a gulp of his tea. “I’m kidding – Iwaizumi did mention Oikawa was a pretty good dancer. Which I have to agree with, given how good he made me look in that ‘Water Dance’ video. I almost looked as if I knew what I was doing.”

“Ugh, don’t feed his ego more.” Kuroo wrinkled his nose. “Let’s go with the fact that he had good source material to work with.”

“Is that jealousy I’m sensing from here, Tettsun?” Apparently done with his texting, Oikawa threw the other dancer a knowing smirk. “I’ll have you know that the Youtube comments about my dance group were amazing – oh wait. You probably read them yourselves.”

Kuroo shrugged expansively. “Eh, any good comment about the dance is positive feedback about _my_ successful choreography, so all’s good.” He levelled a lazy grin onto Sawamura. “Though I did see a number of ‘would tap that’ comments related to Sawamura-kun here. Can’t say I'd disagree with them.”

“Ugh, I’ll give that one to you, Kuroo – the choreography for that song was amazing.” Michimiya pouted, poking Sawamura in the chest. “You’re not off the hook for not attending any of my classes, mister.”

“Well, most of Kuroo’s class times work with my schedule…?”

“Most of Kuroo’s classes, which are, more often than not, Advanced level classes and pretty damn stressful.” Yui threw her hands up. “You forfeited my classes – my nice, easy Intermediate-level classes – for Kuroo’s weird choreographies?”

“Oi, don’t throw my choreography under the bus here; my routines are fantastic, thank you very much. I can’t help it if Sawamura has good taste.”

“As much as I hate to butt into this fascinating conversation,” Oikawa’s laugh was light and airy, “I think the general public consensus is that my choreography is obviously the best of the three of us sitting here. Also, your okonomiyaki are burning, Yui-chan, Sawamura-kun.”

The pair yelped as they hurried to salvage their okonomiyaki on the hot plate. Kuroo, his own okonomiyaki safely moved onto his plate, smirked at Oikawa. “Clearly, someone’s head has been too fogged up by thoughts of _someone else_ to recognize superior dancing.”

Oikawa’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a challenge, Tettsun?”

“Kaori’s class. ‘Bitch I’m Madonna’ throw-down. You game?”

“Please, it isn’t a throw-down if we already know who’s going to win.”

“Bring it, pretty boy.”

Sawamura looked bewildered. “Throwdown?”

“A dance-off of a sorts,” Michimiya explained, biting into her rescued okonomiyaki with gusto. “We instructors can and sometimes do sit in on other choreographers’ classes when we are free. It’s fun, expands our repertoire and introduces new moves we can tweak to incorporate in our own choreography.”

“What Yui said, basically. It’s a great way of keeping us on our toes so we don’t get too stagnant in our own styles of dance. Plus,” Kuroo added slyly, “the internet seems to love watching us perform each other’s stuff, and it would be a shame to deprive them of what they want to see.”

“Yu~p, the view counts really skyrocket when we appear in each other’s videos. ‘Daddy’s almost reached one million the last I checked, which is a testament to whose superior choreography, hmmm?”

“Mine, obviously, considering how you were stuck for ages on the verses. But that’s ok, you’ve got plenty of time to improve.”

Sawamura ignored Oikawa’s enraged spluttering as Michimiya and Kuroo exchanged a triumphant high-five. “So, high view-count videos are because of the presence of other instructors?”

“Not all the time – the popularity of the song usually carries some influence as well. ‘Daddy’s been infecting the radio for weeks.” Kuroo finished the last of his okonomiyaki with a small burp. “But yeah, having other instructors definitely boosts interest.”

“Hmm, Sawamura-kun, have you ever watched Nekoma’s most popular video? The two-million view one?”

“…No? Koushi’s been bugging me to.” Sawamura’s eyes narrowed as he leaned away from Oikawa. “Why?”

Kuroo choked on his tea while Michimiya cackled. Oikawa’s smile only widened as he leaned forward and purred, “Oh, nothing. It’s just one of my favorites – you really should watch it when you have the time. It has Kuroo and yours truly there in it as well, in the third group.”

Michimiya’s grin was as devious as Oikawa’s as she whipped out her phone. “Why look at that, it so happens I have extra data this month. Would you like to watch it now, Daichi?”

“While this promises to be good, I’m afraid I’d best get going. Got an early start tomorrow.” The clock on the far wall read nine forty, and Kuroo pushed his chair back, shrugging his coat back on. “See you on Wednesday, Sawamura.” He couldn’t resist the rakish smirk he tossed at the other man. “Try not to blush _too_ hard when I see you next.”

Yui’s laughter intermingled with Sawamura’s choking followed Kuroo out into the quiet night. Through the tinted window of the restaurant, he could make out Yui leaning on Sawamura’s shoulder, both of them focused on the tiny screen of Yui’s cell phone and sighed a little regretfully. It _would_ have been wonderful to watch Sawamura bloom that lovely shade of warm red.

Walking towards the train station, he quickened his steps a little. If he rushed, he might make the ten o’ clock train.

“Tettsun, wait upppp!”

Surprised, Kuroo turned around to see Oikawa jogging up to him, brown hair bouncing with the movement. "Just because you have longer legs doesn’t mean you have to walk that fast. What are you trying to do, win a marathon?”

“Just because your legs are short, geez.” Kuroo waited until Oikawa caught up, then exaggeratedly slowed down his walking speed, raising an eyebrow at the other boy. “Alright now, your majesty?”

Oikawa waved dismissively. “In case you were curious, Sawamura turned a super-fetching shade of red when he watched our version of 'Grind on Me'.”

Kuroo’s chuckle misted in the chilly air. “Yeah, that’s almost a given. Hell, I still blush watching it sometimes, and I was dancing in the damn thing.”

Oikawa hummed, lips pursed in thought. “That’s the mark of great skill, Tettsun. Still, he gave me a couple of strange looks. Very discreet – I would have missed them if I hadn’t been watching for his reaction, but definitely intentional. It almost felt as if I was being judged, and you know how well I deal with that. So I gracefully took my leave as well.”

“Huh.” Kuroo thought back on the expression on Sawamura’s face when Oikawa had popped up during the makeshift dinner planning. “He got along with you well enough when I placed him in the same group as you last time.”

“I know, which is why it seemed strange.” Oikawa nudged Kuroo in the side. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Wow, thank you oh so ever very much, Oikawa, for making Sawamura watch a video where the two of us were practically dancing on top of each other.”

“No, silly. I mean, yes, well, we were kind of really into it, but that dance definitely highlighted your skills, Tettsun. If he’s half the guy I think he is, I’m sure he appreciated them, along with your finer attributes.”

Kuroo didn’t even bother denying liking Sawamura. The only characteristic more remarkable than Oikawa’s uncanny perceptiveness was his equally stubborn persistence. “And here I was thinking you showed him that video because you looked good in it.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Oikawa sighed happily. “Akaashi-kun really did get my ass at its best angle. But ugh, stop distracting me from my point. If Sawamura didn’t like you before, I’m pretty sure ‘Grind on Me’ would have tilted the odds in your favour.”

Kuroo smiled a little begrudgingly. “You think so?”

“Definitely. I don’t say this often, but you are a pretty high-calibre dancer, on par with me. Sexiness aside, not everyone could pull off CJ’s choreo for that song, and I think you nailed it, both the mood and the dance. To top that off, you are stupidly charismatic. If I didn’t already have Iwa-chan, I would definitely tap you.”

“…You don’t have Iwaizumi, Oikawa.”

“Well, not yet - I’m still working on it, aren’t I? It’s a work in progress!” Oikawa slung a companionable arm around Kuroo’s shoulder. “Sawamura clearly already likes you. Just wait – he’ll ask you out again, I can almost guarantee it.”

Kuroo grinned, mirroring Oikawa’s gesture. “You seem pretty certain of that.”

“Of course I am. And if you don’t run now, you’re definitely going to miss the ten o’ clock train.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes, but detangled himself from Oikawa, picking up his pace as he started jogging faster. “Still an asshole, Oikawa.”

“Prettiest one you’ll ever see,” Oikawa called out, laughing at the finger Kuroo stuck in his direction. “Mark my words, Tettsun, if he doesn’t ask you out by the end of the week, I’ll buy you lunch.”

\---

 

During the brief water break during the Friday class, Sawamura approached Kuroo, hands twisting tight folds into the towel around his neck. Kuroo raised an inquiring eyebrow, lowering his water bottle and waiting as Sawamura glanced quickly to the right, then the left before speaking.

“You mentioned playing volleyball before, right?”

“Yup, when I was much younger. Why, what’s up?”

“My team’s going to be having an exhibition match against Tokyo University tomorrow and I thought that you might be interested? In coming and watching, I mean.”

“Shit, I’m going to have to buy that asshole lunch.”

Sawamura blinked, disconcerted. “Uh, that’s a ‘no’ then?”

“Uh, no, sorry, talking to myself.” Kuroo grinned at Sawamura. “I wouldn’t mind going, actually. It might be pretty fun, thanks for the invite.”

“Really?” Sawamura’s shoulders sagged slightly, and he smiled at Kuroo, bright and pleased. “I mean, that’s great. I’ll just text you the details…oh, I don’t have your number, do I? Would you mind?” He fished out a phone from his back pocket, swiping the screen to unlock it before extending it to Kuroo. He'd barely touched the device when Sawamura yelped, immediately yanking his phone back and flushing violently red, large hands hiding the phone screen from view.

“On s-second thought, maybe if you just read out your number?”

“Ohoho, Sawamura, was that porn as your wallpaper or something?” Kuroo teased, taking pity on the pink-faced athlete and reeling off his digits. Sawamura typed them in with more concentration than his phone number merited, looking up once he was done.

“I’ll send you the details later tonight; that ok?”

“Sounds good to me.” _It’s a date_ , Kuroo didn’t say, revelling instead in Sawamura’s contented expression as his fingers itched to reach up and still Sawamura’s hands where they were still tangled in his towel. He settled with clapping a hand on Sawamura’s shoulder, smirking. “It should be good to see you in your native element, considering you’ve been adapting to mine all this time.”

Sawamura’s eyes met his squarely, the acceptance of the challenge evident in the curve of his own lips. “Better keep your eyes on me then.” He turned, walking back to where the other students were congregated, leaving Kuroo a little stunned, a little admiring.

Later that night, Kuroo was watching anime while tucking into last night’s leftovers when his phone buzzed. The message was brief, with the date and time of the volleyball match, along with instructions on how to get to Chuo.

_Do you need me to meet you at the station?_

Kuroo chuckled to himself, shooting back a quick reply. _Nah, I know the place. You focus on putting on a good show. After what Suga has said, I expect greatness._

The pause was brief, the three dots indicating typing appearing almost immediately. _That can be arranged. See you then._

Kuroo dreamt of Sawamura that night, all solid muscle and sinew dancing to the Water Dance, slow and dirty on a volleyball court, lights hitting his skin just so and tracing the lines of sweat as they traced paths across flushed skin. Kuroo dreamt of shirts dragging up and shorts dragging down and breath hot against Kuroo’s ear as Sawamura leant in, lips grazing the curve of soft skin as he asked, “ _Is this what you wanted?”_

His alarm clock jangled, loud and obnoxious, splintering Kuroo’s dream scape into so many pieces, each already losing the sharp edges of clarity before he could hear what his own answer was.

\---

 

Chou University’s gymnasium was large, and Kuroo couldn’t help whistling in awe as he looked around, the echoes of practice – footsteps, balls smashing against floors, voices calling out to teammates – resonating throughout the vast space. Tucking his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, he scanned the group of athletes warming up on the court, picking Sawamura out easily enough where he was stretching. Taking a moment to admire the way the material of the shorts pulled against Sawamura’s taut bottom, he started to approach the other boy.

A hand clamped down on his wrist. “Don’t disturb them pre-game, Tettsun! You’ve got time to say hi to him later. Learn sign language in the meantime; Sawamura-kun will probably look at the stands for you later. You can sign your love to him then.”

“What the- Oikawa?” Kuroo stared in bafflement at the other dancer. Oikawa was almost unrecognizable, square glasses perched on his nose and hair a little messier than its usual style at Nekoma. Even the fashionable clothes had been swapped out for an oversized sweater that proclaimed ‘aliens are amongst us’. “Oh my god, who are you and what did you do to the real Oikawa?”

Oikawa huffed, yanking Kuroo towards the staircase leading up to the stands. “I always attend Iwa-chan’s games when I can, I’ve told you this before.” He looked back at Kuroo, raising an eyebrow. “I take it Sawamura finally asked you to watch him play?”

“Yeah.” Kuroo smirked. “Sorry, I’m terribly distracted. ‘Aliens are amongst us’, really?”

“I’m letting your ignorance pass _one time_ because we’re friends.” Sniffing, Oikawa hauled Kuroo until they were comfortably seated in one of the front rows. Their seats offered them a clear view of the volleyball court below – Oikawa must be very familiar with this routine, Kuroo realized, to be able to lead them without any hesitation whatsoever.

He leant back in his seat, hands behind his head as he discreetly watched Oikawa. Head propped on his palms, the dancer’s attention was entirely focused on the court below, tracking one of the players calling out instructions to his teammates - Iwaizumi, judging from the spiky head of hair. Shrugging, he left Oikawa to his own devices, smoothly switching his focus to Sawamura, who had clearly finished stretching and was in line for spiking practice. The stiffness that still haunted his dancing clearly didn’t hinder him on the court, back straight and arched as he rolled his neck and shoulders. Hesitation and uncertainty were nowhere in sight as Sawamura ran towards the net, muscles and sinews bunching as he slammed the volleyball down hard on the other end of the court, twisting to high-five the player who had tossed the ball to him.

It was the same as the actual game started: if anything, Sawamura’s intensity ramped up further, deep voice calling out encouragement to his teammates as he dove and flung himself around the court, arms stretched out before him in lines as beautiful as any dancer’s. This was a different Sawamura than the one who came to Kuroo’s classes. While the athlete was markedly less awkward when dancing now, his self-consciousness still manifested in the way he was more prone to standing near the back of the classroom, in the delicacy to his movements even as he looked towards Kuroo for guidance and correction.

The Sawamura on the court before him needed no such affirmation, talking to teammates and clapping them on their shoulders as he jogged by. This Sawamura threw himself along the floor with calculated abandon, seamlessly rolling back to his feet as his attention hung, breathless on the flight of a single volleyball. This Sawamura assessed the opponents on the other side of the court, eyes narrowed as he conferred with his teammates. The intensity Kuroo had come to associate with the other boy was not diminished - if anything, it was augmented by an excitement Kuroo had never seen when he was dancing. If the hardwood floors of Nekoma were Kuroo’s domain, the volleyball court was clearly Sawamura’s choice of battleground, his territory and kingdom. 

And yet, this Sawamura wasn’t completely foreign to Kuroo. The concentration gracing his features, the thoughtful purse of his lips while he was thinking, the anticipation that transformed his smile into a full-fledged smirk, challenge clear in the way he eyed the person across him - all these Kuroo had seen up-close and personal in the time he’d come to know Sawamura. Somewhere inside this experienced volleyball player was the fledgling dancer Kuroo was teaching, the friend Kuroo had come to know, the crush Kuroo had come to acknowledge. Sawamura wore confidence like a second skin, his entire stance projecting steadfast calm.

It was, simply put, stupidly, incredibly attractive.

Beside him, Oikawa was smiling knowingly. “We are quite the pair, aren’t we? Lusting after people a world away from us.”

“Well, between the two of us, I’d consider myself to have better taste.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes before being distracted by something that was happening on the court. “Oh my God, Iwa-chan just pulled off a perfect cross-spike!”

“Sounds like the crowd agrees!” Kuroo had to yell to be heard over the deafening roar of the crowd behind him, stomping and clapping for the play unfolding on the court below. Without hesitating, Oikawa whipped out a plastic megaphone - Kuroo wasn’t sure where he had obtained _that_.

“GOOD JOB, IWA-CHANNNNN!”

Said boy glanced at the stands, raising a fist towards where Oikawa was standing, grinning fiercely. Oikawa clutched at the railings, smiling equally hard at the spiker.

Not that Kuroo had noticed though - at Oikawa’s scream, all the other players had looked in their direction, including Sawamura. Kuroo found himself also leaning against the hand rails, his own grin threatening to overwhelm his face as he flashed a thumbs up at Sawamura.

Even from where he was, Kuroo swore he could see Sawamura’s gaze honing in on him, the line of his mouth curving upwards as he waved.

The game resumed with little fanfare, Kuroo watching the game with bated breath, cheering with the crowd when Chou scored. Oikawa was a helpful companion to have around, the other dancer explaining each play and answering Kuroo’s questions as if he were a seasoned professional himself.

As Sawamura executed another brilliant save, calves flexing as he propelled himself back up to the delight of the crowd, Kuroo wondered how it might have been like had he had pushed on in his youth and became a volleyball player himself. Would he have been Sawamura’s teammate, one with which he would share the responsibility of the game? Would he have been one of those on the opposite side of the court, his arms the barrier between Sawamura and the points he tried so desperately to earn? Would they have even met, playing for schools and universities that may never meet in competition?

Not for the first time, Kuroo sent a silent thanks to Sugawara and his crafty meddling.

The game ended with Chou University’s win, which, judging from Oikawa’s reaction, was normal.

“They are a strong volleyball school, Tettsun – what did you expect?”

“I wouldn’t know. Volleyball newbie, remember?” Kuroo allowed himself to be tugged along by Oikawa as the other boy expertly weaved through the throng of people, pulling them towards where the volleyball players were congregated, heads low, towels slung around their shoulders as they talked amongst each other. None of them seemed surprised to see Oikawa there, though a couple of curious looks followed Kuroo as the pair walked past them.

Iwaizumi shot Kuroo a wary look as they approached, one which Kuroo returned with an artful smirk. To Iwaizumi’s credit, the spiker was generally honest and blunt, which meant his semi-dislike for Kuroo was not veiled behind a polite veneer. Kuroo himself couldn’t quite remember what he’d done to piss off Iwaizumi, but a previous apology attempt had resulted in a gruff dismissal that Kuroo had done anything wrong. Yet, Iwaizumi still regarded Kuroo the way one might look at a hissing snake, and Kuroo couldn’t be bothered to try and ensconce himself in the athlete’s good graces a second time.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa waved at the athlete happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Ew, you kind of stink though.”

“Like you smell any better after your dance practices,” Iwaizumi retorted with the ease of someone used to this particular argument. “Trashykawa.”

“Oh my god, I come out all this way to support you and you call me horrible names?” Oikawa stuck his lower lip out. “Mean Iwa-chan.”

“Hey,” a voice from behind Kuroo interrupted his viewing of Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s conversation and he turned to see Sawamura, eyes crinkled and smiling. “You really did come after all.”

“You promised a good show; far be it for me to back out of that kind of invitation.” Kuroo manfully tore his gaze away from the trail of sweat winding its way down Sawamura’s neck and into the open collar of his t-shirt. Instead, he clutched at his chest theatrically. “I am hurt that you think I’d bail, Sawamura, I really am. Do you think so little of me?”

“Oh, shush.” Sawamura’s face was still flushed with the exertion of the game. “Something might have come up, or you might have gotten busy at the last minute.”

“But this was pretty important for you, yeah? And I don’t commit to those promises I don’t think I can keep.” Kuroo raised a calculated eyebrow slowly, folding his arms and smirking. “Plus, it _was_  a pretty good show, I’ll give you that. I believe we can safely confirm that you play volleyball a sight better than you dance.”

“Oh come off it, I’m not _that_ bad in dancing anymore.” Sawamura wrinkled his nose at Kuroo. “You even complimented me last class, you asshole.”

“Yeah, well, we’re paid to be encouraging.” Laughing, Kuroo dodged the towel Sawamura snapped at him. “Seriously though, you played really amazingly just now. Well, not that I would know anything about volleyball, but Oikawa said you played amazingly, and from where I was sitting, it looked pretty damn good. Tough too; how do your knees survive all those dives?”

“Lots of practice. And, believe it or not, the dancing helped quite a bit as well.” Sawamura laughed, scrubbing at his face with his towel. “I hope you weren’t too bored watching us flail around.”

“You calling yourself boring now? That’s new.” Kuroo winked, grinning at Sawamura’s groan. “I think I saw a couple of moves I can modify into choreography, actually. Might be interesting to try and transform them into executable dance steps.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sawamura casually draped his arm over Kuroo’s shoulder. “Such as?”

“Well…” Kuroo tried to keep his stance relaxed, all too aware of Sawamura’s proximity. Sweaty as he was, Sawamura didn’t smell terrible; rather the opposite, if Kuroo was being honest with himself. He turned his head slightly to look at the athlete. “The ‘flying falls’ you mentioned are already pretty similar to a dance drop. Some of the spiking motions, if coupled with different leg movements, could probably come across as edgy in some of the heavy-beat songs. Maybe one of Zico’s songs...” One of his arms twitched, itching to demonstrate what he meant, but he kept them folded - far be it for him to dislodge Sawamura from where he was leaning on him.

“I’m not entirely sure if all this volleyball-inspiration means dancing is going to be easier or more infuriating.”

“Why, Sawamura, where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I think,” Sawamura said slowly, “I am plenty adventurous as is. Don’t you think so?”

The lights of the gymnasium teased gold flecks into eyes more hazel than brown when illuminated, half-lidded with what, on Kuroo, would be blatant flirting. Kuroo swallowed, lips parting as his mind frantically rifled through possible responses.

Before he could use any of them, Oikawa’s called, flat and clearly annoyed. “Tettsun, they need us back at Nekoma.”

Kuroo shot Oikawa a frustrated grimace, trying to telepathically communicate how unwelcomed his interruption was at the moment. Oikawa’s face remained pinched, eyes darting from a clearly confused Sawamura to Kuroo. “It’s an emergency. Kind of.”

“Seriously, on our off-day? Can’t they call one of the others instead? Yukie or Akaashi, maybe? Bokuto?”

“Kou-kun’s already there,Tettsun.You know how he is under pressure.”

Kuroo slumped, sighing as Sawamura’s arm slid off his shoulder. “Sorry, looks like we’ve gotta run sooner than expected.”

Sawamura was still looking at Oikawa, eyebrows furrowed. Across them, Iwaizumi was practically radiating animosity, glaring at Kuroo. He shot the other boy an unimpressed look; it was hardly Kuroo’s fault that they were leaving. Hell, Kuroo himself was feeling pretty damn irritated at being torn away from a promising moment with Sawamura.

“Yeah, don’t let us keep you,” Sawamura finally replied, voice taking on an unfamiliar tone, slow and doubtful. Before Kuroo could ask what was wrong, Oikawa had seized his upper arm and was dragging him out, calling to Iwaizumi that he’d text him everything later.

“This had better be really, _really_ good, or I swear, Oikawa-’

“Ushiwaka-chan is in Nekoma right now.”

“Fuck, ok, that’s really good.” Kuroo started looking around for a cab to flag down, exorbitant prices be damned. “What the fuck is he doing there? Didn’t Nekomata already told him we refuse to merge with his shitty studio?”

“Fuck if I know,” Oikawa responded, equally terse. “But he’s standing around in one of the rooms, Yukie-chan’s five o'clock in fact, and Yachi just texted me that Yukie-chan injured herself this morning. Moricchi’’s teaching his usual schedule, and you know what happened the last time Kou-kun was in Ushiwaka-chan’s vicinity.”

A cab finally pulled up, and Kuroo hustled them both into the vehicle. Oikawa waited until Kuroo had told the driver Nekoma’s address before continuing. “Nekomata wants to replace Yukie’s slots with my ‘Daddy’ classes since it’s popular and all that. I know technically you don’t have to come, but well, you know how well _I_ deal with Ushiwaka-chan.”

“Yeah, guess it’s better not to give him more fodder to insult us with.” The dancer-owner of Shiratorizawa Studios was blatant in his intent of head-hunting Oikawa, constantly declaring that the other dancer’s talent was wasted in Nekoma. Oikawa’s patience when it came to dancing may be near infinite, but his tolerance of Ushijima was famously low due to what Oikawa claimed was a traumatic past partnership with the other dancer, which had resulted in Oikawa dropping off the radar for a few months. Kuroo was impressed that the other hadn’t inflicted bodily harm on Ushijima yet.

Oikawa glanced at Kuroo out of the corner of his eye, looking contrite. “I’m sorry, I know you were kind of getting it on with Sawamura. I’ll make it up to you somehow. And you won’t have to teach all these replacement classes - just this first one as support because Ushiwaka-chan, and I’ll give you credit-”

“Don’t worry about it, I get it. Ushiwaka’s a pain to deal with alone.” Kuroo slumped back into his seat. “I’ll catch Sawamura after class, hopefully pick things up from there, no biggie.”

“Planning to ask him out finally?”

“Maybe. Depends on how he responds.” Kuroo closed his eyes, leaning against the cool cab window, Sawamura’s face easily swimming to the forefront of his mind. He’d flirt a little harder after next week’s class, maybe ask him to dinner. It was Kuroo’s turn to make a move at this point; Sawamura had invited him out twice, it was only fair that he returned the favour.

Next week, he promised himself. Next week.

\---

 

Sawamura stopped turning up for classes.

On Monday, Kuroo didn’t give it too much thought past the mild disappointment that coursed through him as he surveyed his group of students. Sawamura was a busy person after all, and the practice game at Chou seemed to herald the beginning of what appeared to be the volleyball season. Knowing him, he’d likely turn up for the next class, all apologetic smiles and earnest explanations.

Only there was no sight or sound of Sawamura on Wednesday either. Or Friday. Or the week after. When Sugawara came up to him after one of his classes, confusion written all over his face, Kuroo could only shrug his shoulders and admit that he didn’t know the reason behind Sawamura’s absence either. Watching Sugawara set his jaw before he left was a little cathartic - at least Sawamura would be in for a thorough grilling from his friend.

Yaku frowned at Kuroo in the locker room as the latter yanked on a loose t-shirt. “Yo Kuroo, what happened to Sawamura? Haven’t been seeing him in your classes, and no offence, but your dancing has been a little flat lately.”

“Who’s Sawamura?” chimed in another voice to his right.

“Just one of my regulars, Kaori. And who knows? Probably busy with volleyball and stuff.” Kuroo rolling his head in what he hoped was a relaxed manner. “And my dancing is just fine, thank you very much for that unnecessary consideration. ”

“‘Just one of your regulars’?” Yaku asked dubiously, hands on his hips. “That wasn’t the impression I got.”

“Hey guys, I’m not late, I swear.” Michimiya burst into the room, dropping her duffel and immediately descending upon her locker, fumbling with the lock. Kaori giggled, grabbing her stuff and leaving as Yaku looked at the harried new arrival consideringly.

“Hey Yui, I don’t suppose _you_ know what’s up with Sawamura, do you? Kuroo here won’t tell me.”

“Huh? Is there something up with him?” Michimiya was still partially buried within her locker, tossing a pair of dancing trainers out onto the floor, followed by a change of clothing. “He seemed fine last I saw him.”

“Oh, you’ve met him recently?”

“Well, yeah.” Michimiya’s head was still inside her locker, so no one saw Kuroo suddenly still, face blank. “He’s been coming for my classes, said that he’s been really busy lately and a lower-levelled class would be easier to handle at the moment. Kuroo’s classes are Advanced-level, remember?”

“See? Just what I said - busy guy.” Kuroo turned back to his own locker; it was much easier to hide his face than mask the scowl that had engraved itself into his features at Michimiya’s response.

“Come to think of it though, he seemed a little quieter lately, almost somber.” Michimiya finally emerged from her locker with a change of clothes and a thoughtful expression. “I mean, he’s usually pretty serious, but we’re talking steel-jawed grumpiness here. He’s also been distracted enough to botch a number of the simpler moves, which is expected of beginners, I guess, but he’s been coping just fine with Kuroo’s stuff? These kind of basic moves shouldn’t be stumping him.”

“Eh, his basics are probably shaky. He might have gotten used to Kuroo’s type of choreo, but no dancing background means he’s not that adaptable to other dance styles.” A warm hand landed on Kuroo’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly - Yaku’s.

“I guess that makes sense. Yikes, speaking of which, my class is starting in five - see you guys later!” The main door slammed, and Kuroo’s shoulders dropped, tension leaking out of him as he stared unseeingly at his shoes.

“I’ve got to dash too - my class starts in a bit as well. But hey, if you ever need to rant, you know you can call me out for a drink, alright?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Kuroo tossed the shorter dancer a crooked grin. “Might take you up on the drink, just because. I’m good though; wasn’t lying when I said he was just a regular.”

“His loss,” Yaku snorted, clapping him on the shoulder once more before exiting, leaving the locker room empty. Kuroo closed his locker, wincing as he caught sight of himself in the communal wall mirror. He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, wilder than it was most days. The eye bags he couldn’t quite do anything about -  a good night’s sleep had been a rare commodity, with his mind constantly rewinding the series of events in his head in an attempt to analyse what had happened, what had gone wrong. At the volleyball game, Sawamura _had_ been flirting with him. At least, Sawamura had started an active attempt to flirt with him, Kuroo was fairly sure of that.

So, what had changed within that short window of time? Sawamura had started seeming a little off when Oikawa had dragged them both off to deal with Ushijima, but it was unlikely that the volleyball player would know who Ushijima was in the first place. The only other explanation for Sawamura’s sudden behaviour was that Sawamura wasn’t fond of Oikawa, and that couldn’t quite make sense either, given that the both of them seemed to be on amiable terms when they had worked together in Kuroo’s class. Even if Sawamura had somehow developed an aversion to Oikawa, it still wouldn’t make that much sense. Sawamura seemed like a reasonable guy - why would Kuroo’s choice of friends affect anything, much less to this extent?

Curiosity overrode Kuroo’s normally good sense, and he found himself drifting towards where Michimiya’s class was being held, taking care to keep himself out of sight of the wall mirrors as he peeked inside. Sure enough, Sawamura was there, his sturdy figure so close to where Kuroo was peering in that the dancer immediately ducked out of sight before cautiously looking in again. He was too far in the back for Kuroo to be able to spy on his face properly in the mirrors, but the lines of his back were straight and so familiar, Kuroo ached a little simply watching him move through the simple dance moves in his slightly-stiff manner.

Closing his eyes, Kuroo took a deep breath before straightening and moving away down the corridor. It was a shame, but whatever it was that had interrupted the interest growing between Sawamura and himself, perhaps it was for the best. Regardless of the potential that lay there, if something that trivial could shatter the possibility of a relationship so easily, it wouldn’t have boded well for the future. Kuroo would probably wallow in regret for a while, but it wasn’t something he wouldn’t be able to get over, given enough time. He would be ok, he would move on, be thankful that he hadn’t been in any deeper than he was.

Oikawa would probably inevitably dig Kuroo out eventually, demanding to know what happened, maybe even insisting on apologizing for what he hadn’t done. But Kuroo was not in the mood to deal with that at the moment.

He stopped briefly by the locker room to swipe his leather jacket before heading out of Nekoma. He may not be all that inclined to rant to Yaku, as well meaning as the other choreographer was, but Kenma and coffee sounded really, really good.

\---

 

 “Kuroo!” Bokuto skidded into the room, panting slightly. Kuroo levelled a blank look at him from where he was seated, surrounded by haphazard piles of textbooks and notes in one of the empty dance spaces, highlighter hovering over a page already covered in long lines of yellow.

“If this involves one of your normal Akaashi problems, completely busy, up to my eyeballs.”

“Oikawa-he-gahhh, just come, no time to explain!” Bokuto yanked Kuroo up with one hand, scattering paper everywhere as he bodily dragged the other choreographer out of the practice room and down the corridor

“Bo, what- wait-at least let me cap this highlighter!” Kuroo yanked his arm free from Bokuto’s grip, wincing as he massaged the sore area gently. “Geez, if this ends up bruising - wait, is that the locker room’s first aid kit?”

One look at Bokuto’s uncharacteristically solemn face and the two of them were running to Oikawa’s usual practice room. It wasn’t unusual to find the brunette dancer practicing his choreography late into the night, but he was generally quite careful about not over-straining himself since he transferred over to Nekoma. Kuroo didn’t know what had triggered Oikawa’s old habit of being careless, but he had a fairly solid suspicion.

Lev and Akaashi were already in the brightly-lit room where Oikawa leant against one of the large mirrored walls, legs stretched out before him. One of Akaashi’s hands pressed a cold pack to Oikawa’s right knee while he talked softly to Oikawa. The lanky receptionist hovered around the both of them, gripping a bottle of water.

“Yo, I’ve brought the first aid kit and Kuroo, Keiji!” Bokuto handed the sizeable box over to Akaashi as Kuroo crouched, shuffling closer to Oikawa. Up close, the tension in the other dancer’s body was almost palpable, his eyes red and swollen. Tear tracks traced trails down pale cheeks, but Oikawa was unusually silent, lips pressed into a thin, tight line as he fisted his hands in his shirt.

Kuroo reached for one of those fists, gripping it between his own fingers. “You idiot.”

“Kuroo-san!”

“It’s ok, Haiba-san. I think between us, we have it all covered.” Akaashi’s voice was low and calm. “You can return to the front desk. Kou, could you pass me the compression bandage? The white-colored - yes, thank you.”

Oikawa wouldn’t meet his eyes, still focused on a spot on the floor, but his fist uncurled enough to allow Kuroo to thread his fingers through his, immediately clutching them painfully as Akaashi efficiently wrapped the bandage around Oikawa’s knee. A pained whine escaped the line of Oikawa’s mouth and he squeezed his eyes shut, fresh tears leaking out of their corners. Kuroo’s free hand gripped Oikawa’s shoulder in sympathy, not letting up until Akaashi was done.

“What happened? Did you slip? Was it your shoes?”

“Messed up,” Oikawa whispered, voice raw and hoarse. “Landed jump wrongly.”

“Ouchhhh.” Moving his hand towards Oikawa’s back, Kuroo rubbed reassuring circles through the sweaty material of his shirt. “I’m going to make a wild guess and say you fell because you were too exhausted to finish the full rotation. Because someone was pushing too hard, which he promised not to do anymore, hmm?”

“...You know, sometimes I wonder if Iwa-chan even likes me.”

Kuroo exchanged a quick look  with Akaashi and Bokuto. “Idiot, you know he does. He just hasn’t realized it yet, right?”

Oikawa’s chuckle was humourless and wrecked. “Saw him today with another girl.”

Kuroo clamped back the waterfall of profanity that rose up his throat valiantly, focusing on keeping his touch light and soothing. Beside him, Bokuto had no such restraint, dropping a low and heartfelt ‘ _fuck’_ as Akaashi tugged on his shirt in warning. “Are you sure it was Iwaizumi-san, Oikawa-san?”

“It’s Oikawa - he could probably recognize Iwaizumi in the dark with sunglasses on.” Kuroo grimaced at the snappish edge in his words, throwing Akaashi an apologetic glance before he refocused his attention on Oikawa. “Hey hey, you sure he wasn’t just chilling with a classmate or something? Maybe working on some kind of group project for one of his courses?”

“...she kissed him.”

“I’m going to go kick his ass.”

“No, Kou, you are not. Same goes for you, Kuroo-san.” Akaashi’s firm tone brooked no complaints, and Kuroo growled but subsided. Beside him, Bokuto looked equally frustrated, twitching beneath Akaashi’s hand as he fidgeted restlessly. “What we are going to do is get Oikawa back to his apartment, and let him rest properly. If he still wants us to go kick Iwaizumi-san’s ass tomorrow, we’ll work something out. But tonight, let’s just focus on Oikawa-san, okay?”

“But Keiji…!”

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” The tears from earlier hadn’t stopped, dripping down Oikawa’s chin as his chest heaved. “I’ve flirted with him, dropped blatant hints here and there, invited him out...I’ve pretty much done everything except tell it to his face.”

Kuroo sighed, pulling Oikawa into a loose side-hug. “Some people are a bit thick; it’s a character defect. Honestly, as far as I’m concerned, Iwaizumi’s only saving grace is you, so if he’s fucking stupid enough to do shit like that, he’s not worth your effort.” He met Bokuto’s incredulous gaze and mouthed _yeah, he hasn’t told him_. “I can’t believe I’m attempting to defend this asshole, but, you sure he didn’t push her away right after? Like, maybe she forced her affections on him?”

Oikawa hiccuped. “I didn’t see. I ran away.”

“Maybe Kuroo-san is right and Iwaizumi-san was taken by surprise as well.” Akaashi nodded at Kuroo in thanks. “Let’s focus on getting you back first - do you think you can stand?”

They managed to get Oikawa to his feet, supported between Bokuto and Kuroo before Nekomata himself entered the room, shrewd eyes assessing the sorry tableau they made. “Haiba told me Oikawa injured himself practicing.”

“Yes, sir, he hurt his knee,” Akaashi answered. “It’s not as bad at it seems, though - a couple of days resting should be enough for it to recover.”

“I can take over some of Oikawa’s classes,” Kuroo offered quickly. “I’m familiar with the choreo he’s teaching in his classes at the moment.”

“I can take the other classes Kuroo can’t.” Bokuto’s face was earnest, his trademark grin nowhere in sight. “I’ve danced the routine before too.”

Nekomata studied Oikawa’s tear-stained face before shaking his head. “You kids. You’ve gotta learn to take better care of yourselves. Get him to my car, I’ll drop him back at his place. We’ll work out what to do about his classes tomorrow once we’ve all gotten some sleep.”

“Thank you,” Oikawa whispered as they settled him in the back of Nekomata’s small Toyota, curled in on himself. Stripped off his confident veneer, the other dancer seemed smaller, defeated in a way that he should never be. The three of them watched as the car pulled away, merging with the late traffic until it disappeared within the sea of vehicles

“If I ever run into this Iwaizumi,” Bokuto said darkly, cracking his knuckles, “I will put my fist through his face. Don’t give me that look, Keiji, he deserves it.”

Akaashi sighed, running a hand over his face. “As much as I rather agree with your sentiments, do remember you’re a dancer, not a street brawler. Besides, I doubt you even remember how he looks like, Kou.”

“That’s ok - I can check Oikawa’s Instagram. Or drag Kuroo with me to point him out.”

“As much as _I’d_ like to punch Iwaizumi as well, Akaashi is, unfortunately, right.” Kuroo rubbed at his temples, feeling a headache already building. “Nekoma doesn’t need bad press, or that kind of news associated with it, especially given that Iwaizumi is a Chou U student. Still, Iwaizumi had better fucking pray I don’t run into him either, or else.”

\---

 

It fucking figured, Kuroo thought sardonically as he was slammed against a wall, that Iwaizumi would come looking for _him._

His shoulder throbbed from the jarring impact against brick and mortar and his toes hurt from where hot chocolate was seeping into his shoes, but Kuroo was more focused on glaring down at the furious man who had pushed him against it, hand still gripping his shoulder in a vice tight enough to bruise.

“What the fuck have you done to Oikawa?”

Incredulous laughter bubbled up within Kuroo, edged with anger and disgust. “Oh wow, you actual asshole. I should be asking you if you even know what the fuck _you’ve_ done to Oikawa.”

“Stop deflecting,” Iwaizumi snarled venomously, shaking him forcefully, “You fucking cheater, I can’t believe you even have the balls to fucking do it right in front of him, you-”

Iwaizumi may have been stupidly strong, but Kuroo’s usually-slow rage was already blazing like wildfire through him, red-hot and furious. Seizing Iwaizumi’s hand, he ripped it off his shoulder, tightening his grip as hard as he could. “Because _I_ was the fucker who fucking ignored my best friend’s crush on me for-fucking-ever and fucking kissed someone else in front of him, right?”

Iwaizumi faltered, his hold on Kuroo loosening just as Tsukishima stuck his head out of the glass door, surveying the two of them warily.

“You’re terrifying Hinata and our walls aren’t sound-proof. If you guys are going to brawl like a bunch of brainless idiots, could you at least take it into the alley?” His voice was crisp and sharp, a sure sign that the bespectacled boy was annoyed. “Or better yet, maybe remember you two are educated people and talk it out like the evolved homosapiens you are.”

“Sorry, Tsukki,” Kuroo muttered, keeping a cautious eye on Iwaizumi as he released the other boy. To his credit, Iwaizumi took a step back as well, his anger muted as he apologized to the barista as well. The silence between them once Tsukishima had re-entered the cafe was awkward, still pulsing with thinly-veiled anger, albeit dampened.

“Alright, I don’t know about you, but I’m a fantastic specimen of an evolved homosapien.” Kuroo made a show of leaning back against the wall, arms folded casually. His shoulder ached, but he ignored the pain, draping a careless smirk across his face. “And as much as I’d still like to punch you in the fucking face, I’m a reasonable guy. Mostly. So why don’t you go ahead and explain why you went and fucked up yesterday, huh?”

“ _I_ fucked up?” Iwaizumi echoed disbelievingly, fingers still curled into fists at his side. “ I wasn’t the fucking asshole blatantly hitting on other people right in front of my boyfriend.”

“What the fuck- Ok, first off, Sawamura wasn’t and isn’t my boyfriend - not that it’s any of your fucking business - and he was the only person I was even remotely flirting with, so I don’t know how your twisted logic works, but it sure as hell doesn’t translate into ‘ _cheating_ ’-”

“Oikawa!” Iwaizumi’s hands were on his shoulders again, shaking them, his eyes wild. “Aren’t you dating Oikawa?”

Not a lot of things left Kuroo speechless, but he found himself temporarily at a loss for words as he boggled at Iwaizumi. “Fuck, no? Never was, never will be, thanks. I like my partners committed, and Oikawa’s too busy lusting after your fucking ass twenty-four-seven. Which he spotted kissing some fucking girl yesterday, so between the two of us, I’m pretty sure your fuck-up is why he’s gone and injured himself trying to forget!”

The fight visibly left Iwaizumi, his hands dropping from Kuroo to rub over his own face as he pulled in a shaky breath, slumping. “Fuck. _Fuck._ ”

“Where did you even get that crazy idea from anyway?” Kuroo felt some of his own tension drain,  even as he kept his guard up. “There is no fucking way Oikawa would actually say we were dating - he’s not that kind of guy. And you’ve gotta be blind not to see how he stalks everything you do. Fucking hell, he probably knows more about volleyball than the average player because of you.”

“He always drops your name into our conversations. It’s ‘oh, Tettsun said this’, ‘Tettsun’s been there’, ‘Tettsun’s done that’...” Iwaizumi’s voice was muffled through his fingers. “And the way the two of you dance together-”

“Damn, Iwaizumi, if sexy dancing translated into dating, I’d be a goddamn slut, wouldn’t I?” Kuroo’s head snapped up as he stared at Iwaizumi, eyes wide. “...you actually thought that, didn’t you? Wow, and I thought you just didn’t like my face.”

Iwaizumi was silent, but if Oikawa’s description of his childhood friend was accurate, the realisation of exactly what he had done and its ramifications were probably crashing down on him right about now. Kuroo sighed as he tentatively patted Iwaizumi’s shoulder, fury dissipating into a weary kind of sympathy.

“Ok, Tsukki’s probably going to rip us a new one, but let’s keep being evolved homosapiens and go inside, sit down like civilized adults, maybe sort this shit out. You owe me a new drink anyway. And laundry. And new shoes, if the chocolate doesn’t come off.”

Some of the other patrons eyed them apprehensively as Kuroo steered Iwaizumi into the cafe and into a seat near a window. Tsukishima shot Kuroo a dirty look as he rang up the order, which Kuroo returned with an apologetic grin.

“At least we didn’t start actually fighting? Which, by the way, thank you for the intervention. Brawn-chan over there might have broke me, and who’d replace my classes then?”

“I should charge you double for these,” Tsukishima muttered, slamming a mug onto the counter vengefully. “Especially since I have to make them myself, seeing how some imbeciles sent Hinata gibbering into the kitchen in fear.”

“I always knew you were my favourite barista after Kenma for a reason.”

“Start a fight in this cafe and I will gut the both of you with the broom we keep out back.” Tsukishima’s eyes flickered over to where Iwaizumi had all but buried his head in his hands. “Though it looks like Biceps over there has lost the will to live.”

Iwaizumi did seem subdued, only looking up when Kuroo set the two mugs down on the table. “I owe you an apology.”

“I’d say you do. I’m offended that you think so little of me. Seriously, sexy dancing? That’s your basis for me ‘dating’ and ‘cheating’ on Oikawa?”

Heaving a frustrated sigh, Iwaizumi lifted his hands helplessly, dropped them into his lap. “It does sound stupid when you put it that way. But the way the two of you dance together sometimes? It’s almost clothed sex, I swear. And you guys dance together a lot. More than a lot, actually. The comments on the videos don’t help much either - the ‘Oikuroo’ hashtag is really popular, and Oikawa just seems so gleeful over it...The only other acronym that kept popping up was ‘Bokuashi’ and they are an actual couple, aren’t they? And the looks the both of you exchange when you’re dancing…” A wistful look passed over Iwaizumi’s face. “I just...I wish he’d look at me like that sometimes.”

“Okay.” Kuroo steepled his fingers. “I’ve got a couple of things I’d like to clarify, but go on, you’re not done yet, are you?”

“It’s not just the dancing either - I wasn’t lying when I said Oikawa mentions you a lot. And you’re usually nearby when I drop by and he drags you along with us. I asked him once if the two of you were dating, and Oikawa just laughed and asked if I was jealous.”

“Typical Oikawa,” Kuroo muttered. Iwaizumi huffed a humourless laugh.

“Yeah. I thought, well, he’s busy, I’m busy, and Oikawa can be secretive when he wants to be. So I assumed...yeah. But you seemed to flirt with everyone, even when Oikawa was around. Hell, you were flirting with Sawamura in front of all of us. And he always seemed a little downcast when you do that..”

“My turn to speak now?” Kuroo held up five fingers. “First, yes, I flirt and tease a lot - not gonna deny that, that’s just who I am. But I’m a professional, first and foremost, and I never, ever lead anyone on. Ask anyone, Oikawa even. Second, I pair up a lot with Bokuto and Yukie as well, Bo even more so than Oikawa, probably. But you’re probably only noticing the ‘sexy’ dances, which, yes, I do most often with Oikawa. It’s simple - when Oikawa and I work on a routine, we pick the more sensual songs because we like the type of routines you can choreograph to that type of music. You’re right about the hashtag though; Oikawa feeds that damn thing - he finds it hilarious. I swear he makes troll accounts just to champion it in the comments sections. Third, of course I’m going to shoot Oikawa sexy looks and vice versa - you pick a sexy dance, you’ve gotta set a sexy mood. Trust me, neither of us are dumb enough to believe that the other is actually invested in those glances we throw each other. Fourth, I’d like to think Oikawa and I are pretty good friends. On top of that, I’m his colleague - of course I’m going to pop up in his conversations about work and dance. Fifth and last, have you ever considered that Oikawa gets depressed because you were too busy scowling at me instead of paying attention to him? Forget the come-hither looks when we’re dancing, how is it possible that you’ve missed all the longing looks he’s directed at you?”

“He doesn’t-”

“If you finish that with ‘look at me that way’, don’t. I don’t want to have to punch you after how well we’re doing now. Seriously, I don’t know how you’ve missed it, given that even our front desk guy knows - and Lev can be a bit dense at times - but let me spell it out for you: Oikawa. Likes. You. A damn lot. He was already crushing on you so hard when I first met him, it might as well have been a part of his self-introduction. ‘Hi, I’m Oikawa and I like Iwaizumi Hajime.’” Kuroo levelled the sternest glare in his arsenal on Iwaizumi. “And hey, it might be just me, but it seems pretty mutual on your part. So why don’t you tell me exactly why you did what you did. Or wait,” Kuroo held up a hand, arresting Iwaizumi mid-word, “I’ve changed my mind, I don’t care. I don’t want to know. What I do want is for _Oikawa_ to know, so you go explain it to him yourself. And while you’re at it, sort your mess out, will you? I’d like Oikawa to be disgustingly cheerful the next time I see him, crutches or not. Not even gonna bother telling you where he is - if you know him the way he claims you do, you’ll know where to find him.”

Iwaizumi was already clambering to his feet, clearly eager to seek out his childhood friend and attempt to make amends, if the grim determination already settling into his features was anything to go by. “Yeah, I do.” Pausing briefly as he grabbed his jacket, he glanced back at Kuroo uncertainly. “Yo, thanks. And, uh, I’m really sorry again for earlier and... earlier.”

“Go on, you can apologize properly later.” Kuroo made shoo-ing gestures, watching as Iwaizumi practically fling himself out the door and down the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding several pedestrians as he bolted for Nekoma. Sighing, he relaxed into the chair, leisurely draining his beverage.

“I don’t get paid enough for this shit,” he told Tsukishima mournfully when the barista came by to clear the table, pulling a face at the gross stickiness the spilled cocoa had saturated his socks with.

“Neither do I.” Tsukishima eyed Iwaizumi’s untouched mug with derision. “Tch, like this city doesn’t have enough food wastage already.”

“Go on, he didn’t drink from it at all. Take it or give it to Hinata, my treat.”

As Tsukishima carried the two mugs away, Kuroo called hopefully, “Yo, Tsukki, I don’t suppose you’d happen to have a spare pair of socks, do you?”

\---

It was late by the time Kuroo ducked into Nekoma, armed with a new pair of socks he had to pick up from a supermarket, his duffel and a sense of exhausted achievement. He groaned appreciatively as he rinsed his feet in the tiny bathroom - the sneakers may have been a lost cause, but if there was a list of things Kuroo particularly abhorred, wet toes stuck in equally damp shoes would definitely rank somewhere in the top ten. Switching to the dancing trainers he had grabbed from his locker, Kuroo stretched lazily.

Oikawa was nowhere to be found in any of the dance rooms, which was good - it meant Iwaizumi had probably gotten his act together properly and dragged him back to his apartment. He stopped briefly by Yaku’s room to wave at him, observing the class before deciding not to stay for it. He had his own choreography to clean up and refine - life, and work, didn’t stop for anyone or anything, not even Oikawa’s dramatic love life.

His comment to Tsukishima, while light, wasn’t completely in jest - it was definitely for the best that Iwaizumi and himself didn’t start actually throwing punches, for both their sakes. Any injury Iwaizumi might have sustained would have handicapped his volleyball team, especially given the upcoming tournaments. As for Kuroo, well, he was a dancer - the bruise Iwaizumi had left on his shoulder alone was already going to cause stiff arm extensions for a while.

Pushing open the door to his usual studio, Kuroo surveyed the empty room before walking over to where the music player was, sliding his USB stick out of his pocket. Yaku would whine at him for ages for stealing this song out from under him, but it’d be worth it - the pent-up frustration and irritation of the past few weeks would be more than enough fuel for creating a difficult set for ‘Deep Water’. Bouncing nimbly from foot to foot, he surveyed his reflection in the mirror as the sound of lapping water filtered through the room, body already automatically falling into the tempo the song dictated. With any luck, he’d nail down a passable section of choreography today, and build on it tomorrow.

Dance, so much easier to understand than people, figured Kuroo with a sigh.

Time was never a factor Kuroo took into heavy consideration when he was dancing to choreograph - he stopped whenever he was satisfied with his progress, when his limbs grew too heavy to carry the precision he demanded of them, when gravity made him too slow. As such, he wasn’t sure exactly what time it was when the door opened to allow a familiar figure to slip inside. Wrapped up in his momentum, Kuroo didn’t even notice the intrusion until he stopped for breath, looking up and immediately catching Sawamura’s gaze from where he was leaning casually against the wall, arms folded.

He paused, fatigue leaving him with no resources to mask his surprise as he stared dumbly at the other man. It had been at least a month since Kuroo was last in the same room as Sawamura, much less saw him face to face. If Kuroo was being honest with himself, he was still very much annoyed at the athlete, still a little hurt by the unexplained dismissal Sawamura had engineered with his abrupt removal of himself from Kuroo’s class and subsequently, Kuroo’s life. But that honesty would have to extend to admitting that the attraction Kuroo was hoping would have cooled by now had clearly not been dampened any during that period of absence, if the flare of heat low in his belly was any indication.

He must make quite a sight, chest heaving, hunched over with his hands on his knees. Kuroo was suddenly too aware of the sweat cooling on his skin, could feel where it stuck his ratty t-shirt to his body in dark patches. The wide hairband did a great job keeping his hair off his face, but it was far from flattering. Sawamura, in comparison, looked as good as Kuroo remembered - hair a little rumpled, face a little flushed, the way he often was during dance sessions. His clothes quickly negated that notion though - no sane person would consider practicing dance in a coat-cardigan combination, as nice as it looked. But if he wasn’t here to dance, then...

Sawamura was already moving towards him, pushing himself off the wall and approaching Kuroo as the dancer straightened up, tugging at his t-shirt in a futile attempt to neaten it. “Sawamura, what-”

Then Sawamura’s fingers carded through Kuroo’s hair, gently pulling his head down and Sawamura was-

Sawamura was kissing him, and all coherent thoughts were instantly wiped out by the rush of bright, hot pleasure.

Kuroo’s gasp was swallowed by a surprisingly skillful mouth, which sweetly fitted itself against Kuroo’s as large arms dropped to drape themselves around the dancer, pulling him even closer.

Daichi’s body was firm where it pressed against Kuroo’s, and Kuroo allowed himself to be swept up into Sawamura’s strange recklessness, his lips parting easily under the other’s tongue as he kissed back.

When they eventually broke apart, breathless, Kuroo mustered enough of his wits to blink dazedly at Sawamura.“What the - Sawamura, what are-”

“Uh. Um. I.” Sawamura’s cheeks were a violent shade of red as he stuttered, arms still firmly locked around Kuroo. “I’m sorry, I’ve been a goddamn idiot. I shouldn’t have done what I did. I don’t usually do this, the avoiding, I mean, not this-this, but I-” His head shot up, and he shot Kuroo an alarmed look. “Oh my god, did I just - I just _assaulted_ you, didn’t I? I’m so, so sorry-”

Sawamura’s panic was so blatant, Kuroo almost laughed aloud. Instead, he leant back in and deliberately recaptured the clever mouth across his, fingers moving up to cup Sawamura’s cheeks as the other man responded, pushing into Kuroo’s space and filling it with the scent Kuroo had come to associate as intimately Sawamura’s.

It was a while before they stopped, tangled up with each other against the far end of the studio. Kuroo reached up, blindly smacking at the keyboard until the only music in the studio was the sound of their breathing, harsh and heavy.

Sawamura started to lean in, clearly with the intent of going for a second round before he stopped abruptly, focus drawn to something Kuroo couldn’t see.

“I heard that Oikawa hurt his knee, but no one mentioned you were injured as well?”

“Huh? I didn’t - oh.” The baggy collar of his t-shirt had slipped slightly off the shoulder Iwaizumi had slammed against the wall earlier; Kuroo wouldn’t be surprised if it had blossomed into a mass of black and blue hues. “So, funny story how I got this.” Kuroo grimaced as Sawamura carefully tugged his collar further down, brown eyes widening as he surveyed the bruising.

“What happened? No, never mind that for now - I’ll go get some ice.”

“No, it’s alright. Seriously, it’s ok - it looks a lot worse than it actually is.” Kuroo grabbed at Sawamura as he made to rise. “In fact, it’s a great reminder that, hey, I’m supposed to be angry and ask you angry questions. Hell, I am still angry. _Sit_.”

“Alright, alright, I’m sitting. But let me at least…” Sawamura scooted around until he was seated behind Kuroo. “I won’t touch the bruising directly, but this should help a little with blood circulation.”

Kuroo couldn’t bite back the appreciative groan that escaped him as warm hands deftly kneaded his shoulder, avoiding the tender areas. “Mmmm. What was I saying?”

“That you are angry. Rightfully so.”

“Right.” Drawing a deep breath, Kuroo organized his thoughts into some semblance of order, an unsurprisingly difficult task given Sawamura’s proximity and the magic he was working on Kuroo’s shoulder. “So, I’m still kind of pissed. Because as nice as this is right now - don’t you dare stop - it doesn’t excuse nor explain your shitty behavior over these last few weeks. Yeah, you’re not obligated to take my classes - by all means, go sit in on Michimiya’s more boring classes if you want to. You don’t even have to tell me, that’s fine - my other regulars move around the other classes all the time without giving me any heads-up. But the sudden cold shoulder? The complete avoidance?” Kuroo exhaled, looking up to meet Sawamura’s eyes through the mirror across the room. “I thought we were considering starting something between us. At least, that was the impression I was getting. Instead, you completely ghost out and vanish. Don’t deny it - you were definitely avoiding running into me. This place isn’t big enough that you’d not bump into me at all.”

“I was, and I’m sorry, it was childish of me.” Sawamura’s sigh was heavy, even as his fingers kept up their firm massage on Kuroo’s shoulder. “It’s...I’ve been an absolute idiot. I could have done so many things differently, should have done it differently. For one thing, I probably should have just been more forthcoming from the start. This,” a vague gesture at the two of them, “might seem abrupt to you, but I... I’ve kind of had a crush on you for ages.”

“Huh. Since when?”

Sawamura coughed in embarrassment. “Since before I actually met you, to be honest. Ask Koushi, he’d be more than happy to tell you about how my laptop’s history list is populated by your dance videos. Hell, my phone screensaver is a screenshot of you - that’s how bad I’ve got it. Then Koushi blackmailed me into attending your classes, and I finally caved because I figured that maybe you’d be less appealing in person and that I could work it out of my system. But somehow, you were actually better than the person in the videos, so much more than I thought you’d be. So I was stuck, because it’s pretty clear that I’m not exactly the world’s best dancer. But you were actually talking to me. Every week. I couldn’t pass that up. Do you know how many muscles I strained just to be able to casually chat with you for fifteen minutes after classes?”

Kuroo ducked his head, his own face traitorously warm. “You could have just asked me out directly, you know.”

“In my defence, I _did_ try at least once, remember? But you were busy then, and I wasn’t sure if it was your polite way of turning someone down. It takes me awhile to work up the nerve to ask anyone out, much less you - I mean, why would someone like you ever consider going out with someone like me?” Sawamura’s voice was self-deprecating. “Then, when I finally successfully invited you to dinner, both Yui and Oikawa gatecrashed it spectacularly. I was hoping you’d protest or look a little reluctant, but you seemed fine with the extra company on what was supposed to be a ‘date’. On top of that, you and Oikawa were had such good chemistry that I was jealous of Oikawa. There, I’ve said it - I was a jealous bastard.” Sawamura exhaled audibly. “When you agreed to come to the volleyball game and actually appeared, I was so happy until Iwaizumi told me you were dating Oikawa, and it all kind of made sense? But, my god, I couldn’t bring myself to face you after, so I...ran.”

“Fucking Iwaizumi,” Kuroo muttered. “Screw bodily harm, I’m seriously going to kick his ass, I swear.”

“It’s not completely on him - Iwaizumi was just worried that I was getting in over my head. He may have made the wrong assumption, but it was my own fault for taking his word for it without questioning it; that’s solely on me. I’m usually more rational, but you never seemed to show more than friendly interest in me, and I didn’t know if I should push it or not. I mean, what if I ended up alienating you, or pissing you off?”

Silence, then Kuroo groaned feelingly, scrubbing at his face. “Damn personal ethics. Broke it once, should have broken it again. If I had just _known_...Trust me, Sawamura, I have definitely had more than ‘friendly interest’ invested in you for a while now.”

“Koushi kept insisting that, but...well, that’s not important now. Either way, Iwaizumi called me about an hour ago - said he fucked up, and that you and Oikawa weren’t dating. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten off a train that fast. The buses were late, so I pretty much ran here from the station.” Sawamura’s chuckle was wry. “I’m probably not going to be able to feel my legs tomorrow, but I figured it was more important to clear things up with you immediately.”

“So that kiss ambush was your version of an apology, huh?”

A warm breath tickled the nape of Kuroo’s neck, replaced by the brush of equally warm lips. "Um, not quite. That, I've been wanting to do that for awhile. Kiss you, I mean. I was going to apologize properly first, but...has anyone ever told you you override rational thinking sometimes?”

“I’ve been told I’m pretty hot but - _hnngh_.” Kuroo sucked in a sharp breath as Sawamura dropped another light kiss above his shoulder. “But seriously? Unless ‘sweaty and gross’ is your thing, I’m definitely not particularly appealing at the moment.”

“‘You’ are my kind of thing.” Despite the bold statement, Sawamura was bright red, burrowing his face into the back of Kuroo’s neck as he groaned. “Dear god, did I say that out loud? I did, didn’t I? Please say it worked.”

Kuroo was definitely flushed now, his body charged with a strangely light, effervescent feeling even as his lips twitched with the effort to not grin manically. “It’s definitely an improvement from the last time.”

“I would have said something much earlier, but I really didn’t want to make things awkward in case you didn’t feel the same way. Then after that, I thought you and Oikawa were together, so…

"Well, fuck me."

“That...might be open for negotiation eventually.”

“ _Sawamura_ ,” Kuroo murmured in shocked delight. “Has anyone ever tell you you have a surprisingly dirty mouth?”

Sawamura’s smile was a delicious curve against Kuroo’s skin. “Clearly, you are a terrible influence.”

“Or the best, depending on who’s asking.” Kuroo reluctantly pushed Sawamura away and pushed himself to his feet. As brief as it was, Sawamura’s massage had helped loosen the stiffness in his shoulder, and Kuroo nodded decisively. “Alright, as tempting as it might be to challenge the validity of that offer, we’re still in my workplace, there are classes being held in the rooms around us and, as much as the idea of exhibitionism sounds terribly kinky, I really like my job. Seriously, my boss is in this building right now, and I’m not that big on risk. Also, I really, actually stink. I do; an hour of dance practice will do that to you - don’t look at me like that, Sawamura - and you should know I do not put out on the pre-date, even if the make-out session _was_ spectacular.”

Sawamura got to his feet as well. “Spectacular, huh?”

“Don’t cheapen those efforts, Sawamura - I’d rank that amongst my personal top ten.”

“Only ‘top ten’? Guess I’ll have to put in more effort then. That is, if I have the permission to?...”

“You do. You very much do.” Kuroo felt his face begin to heat up again under Sawamura’s gaze, and hastily pulled on a nonchalant expression. “But start tomorrow - there’s only so much one brain can compute in a night before it overloads.”

“Alright, sounds good.” Sawamura’s eyes crinkled around the edges as he smiled - coupled with the relaxed stance, it was a good look on him. “Prepare yourself, Kuroo.”

“Oh, bring it, Sawamura.”

Turning at the door, Sawamura shot Kuroo one final grin. “Remember to ice that shoulder later. Oh, and Kuroo? Call me ‘Daichi’.”

As Sawamura, no, _Daichi_ slipped out, Kuroo found himself smiling helplessly, the dance steps for ‘Deep Water’ a distant memory.

Well, at the very least, they were on the same page now. And, truth be told, Kuroo was really rather looking forward to what Daichi had planned.

\---

It started with flowers. Not large bouquets or ostentatious bundles cluttering up the spaces, but single stalks, girdled by a simple ribbon.

“For you,” a grinning Sugawara said, handing Kuroo a yellow camellia, along with a Salonpas patch before the start of his Tuesday class. “From you-know-who.”

“Kuroo!” Michimiya was next, catching him the day after as he was keeping his things inside his locker. “Daichi said to pass this to you.” She gave him a white anemone and a big smile before skipping off to class.

The third and fourth flower came together on a humid Friday in the form of Bokuto, who handed Kuroo the flowers before clapping him on the back enthusiastically. “Someone being wooed properly, huh?”

Trust Bokuto to nail it right on the head, Kuroo thought, carefully putting Daichi’s carnation and and forget-me-not into the vase on the corner of his apartment’s window sill, along with the others. Passion and true love, joining longing and sincerity, according to the Hanakotoba page bookmarked on Kuroo’s laptop. The athlete himself remained elusively out of sight, save for a few glimpses of him in the corridors. Michimiya’s class schedule didn’t overlap with Kuroo’s at all - likely the original reason why Daichi had transferred to her class in his initial attempts to avoid Kuroo.

“Flowers? Really?” He asked Daichi the next time he caught the other man leaning casually against the front desk as he chatted to Lev. From the way Daichi grinned at him, he had been waiting for Kuroo to appear.

“I thought it might be nice to start simple.” Daichi lifted a single rose, predictably red and tapped it against Kuroo’s forehead. “The classics are still classics for a reason.”

As Kuroo took the flower offered to him, Daichi leant in, deftly dropping a feather-light kiss on the spot he had brushed the rose against before sauntering off. Lev stared at Kuroo avidly, cat-like eyes wide and curious.

“Woah, Kuroo-san! I didn’t know you were dating Sawamura-san.”

The rose was still fresh and lush as Kuroo tucked it into his belt loop. “Shh, it’s still a work in progress.” He ducked back into one of the corridors before Lev could catch sight of the pleased smile tugging his mouth upwards.

When the flowers stopped, the text messages came; short, simple updates on random, everyday topics:

[From: Daichi]  
_Ugh, upcoming essay deadline and I’m still stuck at the introductory paragraph_

[From: Daichi]  
_Yui’s teaching us ‘Me Against the Music’. Isn’t that your kind of song though?_

[From: Daichi]  
_Saw a cat that reminded me of you. [photo attached]_

Kuroo found himself replying in kind - commiserating, teasing, or just greeting Daichi back. ( _Ouuuch don’t OD on caffeine, Well I may or may not have done choreo for that before, damn that is one handsome feline_ ). The exchanges bordered on friendly, almost platonic and Kuroo found himself anticipating the electronic beeps that signaled a new text on his cell phone.

[From: Daichi]  
_Up to anything interesting?_

[To: Daichi]  
_If ‘interesting’ means sleep, then yeah getting up to v fascinating things_

[From: Daichi]  
_Haha, funny. I’ve got revision to do, no sleep for me until I’m done with chap 3._

[To: Daichi]  
_You’ll be fine, you’re smart._

[From: Daichi]  
_Thanks. :) Anything good happen today then?_

[To: Daichi]  
_Class as normal. Finished choreographing Deep Water. Tired but v happy_

[From: Daichi]  
_Grats, looking forward to seeing it_

To:[Daichi]  
_Its not gonna be on YT for a while yet. Not gonna teach it until its perfect_

[From: Daichi]  
_Don’t suppose you might be persuaded into previewing it for me to see?_

[To: Daichi]  
_Depends on the type of persuasion_

[From: Daichi]  
_Tea latte and a kiss, in that order?_

Kuroo dropped his hand holding his cellphone to the bed, staring at the ceiling as his heart did a little skip of pleasure. Their exchanges bordered on friendly, almost platonic, yes, but it was the occasional flirtatious text Daichi would slip into the conversations every now and then that Kuroo treasured most.

“Smooth, Daichi,” he muttered, feeling a little like a blushy schoolgirl as he tapped a quick reply on his phone.

[To: Daichi]  
_Try me._

[From: Daichi]  
_I just might. Go sleep already._

“I swear, he’s trying to kill me.”

“Geez, Tettsun, you and your theatrics.” Oikawa ruffled Kuroo’s hair, carefully moving the two glasses away from where the other dancer had thunked his head onto the small table. “I don’t even know why you’re complaining - it sounds like Sawamura-kun has finally stepped up and taken proper initiative. I wish Iwa-chan were that romantic sometimes.”

“Don’t even lie, you asshole.” Kuroo turned his head so he could shoot Oikawa a half-hearted glare. “After all those ‘Iwa-chan is so perfect’ spiels you’ve subjected us all to - and I mean ‘us all’ as in _everyone in freaking Tokyo at this point_ \- I’ll start feeling personally offended on Iwaizumi’s behalf if you start blathering about how he’s not ‘romantic’ enough. Which I’d like to avoid feeling, thanks.”

“True enough.” Oikawa preened a little, satisfaction still nestled in the creases around his eyes as he beamed. Kuroo would never know what went down between the two of them, but it had clearly worked out. Oikawa remained absent from Nekoma for a few days, and the next time Kuroo saw him after the incident, he was barely hobbling, buoyed on a happiness that practically radiated from the dancer. “I’m still miffed he didn’t pass me a flower to give to you.”

“He probably didn’t want to take his chances.” Ignoring Oikawa’s petulant grumbling about unfairness, Kuroo grunted and pushed himself back up into a sitting position before Kenma came out and gave him one of his disapproving stares. “And I’m not complaining. I’m just...I’m kind of stupidly happy? I’m usually the one doing the seducing; it’s a bit weird to be the one on the receiving end.”

“Bad-weird, or good-weird?”

“Good-weird. Definitely the good weird.”

“Well, you’re a big boy, Tettsun, and I know you probably don’t need my advice, but here, have it anyway.” Oikawa’s eyes were serious, even as he playfully ruffled Kuroo’s hair ignoring the other’s squawking. “Enjoy it. The flirting, the teasing, all of it. You’ve spent so much time being uncertain if Sawamura was interested or not, now that he’s showing you he’s clearly interested in more, you better reciprocate properly.”

“And tell me why I should be listening to you, when you were the King of Uncertainty in Crushes?”

“Because I should know exactly what I'm talking about if I was King, asshole. Just enjoy it. And reciprocate.”

“Yes, O wise king.” Kuroo nimbly ducked Oikawa’s swat, laughing. “I have every intention to repay him in kind, don’t worry. Just give a guy some time to get used to the 180 degrees flip here.”

“Don’t over-think it,” Oikawa advised sagely. “Go with the flow. Let him come to you, which he will, just you wait.”

As if to prove Oikawa’s clairvoyance, Daichi poked his head into Kuroo’s practice room the next night. Pausing mid-song, Kuroo pushed his hair off his forehead, canting a hip as he studied the new arrival. “Huh, you really did come.” He kept his tone nonchalant and casual, the way he might sound if he hadn’t been keeping an eye the door for the past half an hour.

Daichi wriggled his right hand, which was holding a paper cup. “I said I would, wouldn’t it? I believe this has your name on it.”

Taking the drink from him, Kuroo groaned appreciatively as he peeked under the protective plastic cover. “Oh man, green tea latte. This shit’s amazing.”

“I know. One of the baristas told me it’s your favourite.” Daichi watched as Kuroo practically inhaled the beverage, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Looks like he may have actually understated it a little. Guess you’ve been practising for quite awhile, huh?”

“Kinda. I’m just messing around with random jams at the moment, see if anything takes.”

“Done with ‘Deep Water’?”

Of course Daichi remembered. “Not quite, but for today, pretty much. Just one or two bits to go, but I want it to come to me naturally, y’know?”

Daichi nodded. “Yeah, sounds similar to how we sometimes play instinctively, moving into the position that somehow feels just right. At least, it sounds like that’s what you’re trying to go for. The ‘natural’ progression of moves, right?”

“Yep.” Daichi looked good, dressed in a hoodie and denim jeans, slightly rumpled and comfortable. There was a slight tension to his shoulders that belied his relaxed expression though, and Kuroo was acutely aware of Daichi’s eyes on him. Kuroo looked decent - he knew this much, given how much care he had given to picking out his nicest-looking practice wear. He had even gone a little lighter on the choreography and was at least semi-presentable, compared to his normal sessions.

“So.” Daichi shuffled his feet, coughing awkwardly.. “I’ve delivered on the latte, and…” His gaze met Kuroo’s and he smiled tentatively. “I, er, don’t suppose you would mind me following through on the last bit of my promise?...”

Kuroo breathed in, exhaled slowly, heartbeat pounding loud within his ears as he gave in to the wide smirk which insisted on tugging his lips upwards. “Well, I do like it when people keep their word.”

“Oh, thank God.” Daichi’s arms were still as warm, still as strong as he remembered as they wrapped around him, and Kuroo allowed himself to melt into the sure hold even as his own arms curved around Daichi’s torso, locking themselves around his broad back. The kiss was slower, sweeter and more demanding at at once, long fingers splaying themselves over dips and planes of firm musculature through the thick material of clothing.

Someone banged on the studio door, startling them apart as Yaku’s voice yelled, “Take it back home, goddammit!”

Daichi broke the silence with a chuckle, resting his head against Kuroo’s shoulder. “Talk about anti-climactic, huh?”

“Just wait until he shacks up with someone,” Kuroo grumbled. “I’ll go bang on _his_ walls - ey, that tickles.”

“Sorry.” Daichi’s face was anything but repentant as he chanced another experimental nibble at Kuroo’s collarbone. “Okay, not so sorry - this has been much better than I remembered it.”

“Funny coincidence, I feel the same way too.” Kuroo grinned suddenly. “Still not a cheap lay though.”

“Definitely not,” Daichi hummed. “Do you know how expensive flowers are these days?”

“The inflation’s no joke now,” Kuroo agreed mock-soberly, obligingly stretching his neck for Daichi to press tiny kisses up the expanse of skin there. “Still, I _do_ have standards to uphold.”

“Like your professional ethics?” Kuroo could feel the flush rise as Daichi laughed. “I suppose it _would_ be a shame to have to compromise on such upstanding standards. There’s a pretty good donburi place that Suga recommended a couple of streets away - does dinner meet those high requirements of yours?”

“Dinner sounds amazing actually - I’m half-starved. Just let me throw my stuff into my locker and get changed.”

“Just to play it safe, I’ll tag along.” Daichi’s expression was wry as he gently pushed Kuroo towards his things. “Nothing against what happened last time, but I’d rather not chance the possibility of extra company this time around.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that - I’ll personally kick the ass of anyone who dares to gatecrash us this time. Except maybe Michimiya; she can get a verbal kick instead.”

“Still, just to be extra-sure. Might as well save them the butt-kicking where I can.”

Knowing Daichi was lingering outside the locker room for him still felt a little unreal, and Kuroo showered and changed as quickly as he dared, giving his reflection one last look-over before he stepped out into the corridor. Something within him re-settled itself as his eyes fell upon Daichi’s easy smile as he straightened up.“Ready to go?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kuroo caught sight of Oikawa’s head, peeking out from a studio down the corridor behind Daichi. He winked at him, forming a heart sign with his hands before popping back inside.

Daichi looked over at him questioningly as Kuroo chuckled, reaching out to pull Daichi closer. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I’m just happy.” He really was, Kuroo realized with a small start. To some extent, nothing much had changed; there would still be classes to teach, assignments to struggle with, dances to choreograph, problems to face, life to handle in general.

But now, there would also be Daichi, and that had the potential to change everything.

Beside him, Daichi hummed. “Me too. It’s kind of mind-boggling - if you had told me a few months back that I’d be here, right now, dating you?...” His hand reached for Kuroo’s, fingers interlacing with his and squeezing. “Dating you, I’d laugh and tell you to pull the other leg.”

Kuroo swooped in to kiss Daichi again. “You know, I just realized I didn’t keep my end of the deal.”

“‘The deal’?”

“Mm hmm. Didn’t you come to see the ‘Deep Water’ choreo?”

Laughing, Daichi steered them both towards the exit. “I guess it would be a shame to make a liar out of you. Oh well, you’ll have to show it to me later then.”

“‘Later’, huh?” Kuroo waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Daichi, who kept his face remarkably straight. “Why, Daichi, was that a proposition?”

The night wind outside couldn’t halt the warmth that travelled up Kuroo’s arm from Daichi’s grip as Daichi turned to smile at Kuroo. “I don’t know, I’d rather think of it as a promise.”

\---

He would never tire of the round of enthusiastic cheers that accompanied the introduction of new choreo, Kuroo mused as he bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. He could feel the grin on his face stretching to maniacal proportions, and couldn’t be bothered less.

“Alright, alright, guys, settle down - we’ve got to actually get this started. Now, ‘Deep Water’ is something I’ve been investing effort into for a while now,” Kuroo shot Yaku a wicked grin and received a quick flash of his middle finger from behind the camera in response, “and I’m looking forward to teaching it to you. Saddle up, because this won’t be easy-”

“It never is!” Matsukawa hollered from the back of the room.

“Yeah yeah, but hey, you didn’t sign up to join my class because it’d be ‘easy’, right?” Kuroo called back. “Seriously though, if you think this might be too much for you to handle, it’s totally okay to tap out and switch to an easier class at any time - no harm, no foul. Remember: dance should be challenging, not stressful to the point of frustration. But back to what I was saying, this is going to be fast, and there’s not going to be a lot of room for hesitation. If you get a move wrong, just roll with it and move on. All good? Alright, clear some space, this dance moves around quite a bit, as you’ll see.”

Kuroo barely waited for Yaku and the spectators to leave during the next short break before he sidled up to a certain athlete during the next short break, grinning as Daichi noticed him coming up behind Sugawara. “So, opinions?”

“Stating the obvious, but damn, you really went hard on this one,” Sugawara remarked, grinning.

“Yep, not even going to lie - this one’s my baby. I’m actually looking forward to choreographing a few more like this one actually; it’s a really refreshing change, and a great way of challenging my own skills.”

“But still the hip rolls, huh?”

“Always the hip rolls,” Kuroo agreed soberly. “At least one tiny, teeny one. A dancer’s got to have a signature after all.”

“I’m going to regret re-joining your classes, aren’t I?” Despite the dry words, Daichi’s eyes were fond as they rested on Kuroo. Sugawara smacked Daichi on the arm.

“So he says now - you haven’t heard how he’s been waxing eloquent over how great it is to be able to rejoin your class. By the way, I would like to register a complaint with the teacher as to how unfair it is that Daichi got a sneak peek at this dance routine before the rest of us.”

“It’s not like I actually learnt anything from what I saw; still kind of a beginner here, remember?” Daichi protested, already red around the ears. “And I really only saw half of it before we...moved on to other, uh, things.”

“Wow, Daichi. TMI. Just. TMI.”

“What, but I - nothing - not that - _ughhhh_. Either way, I’m probably going to get wiped so hard by this.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Daichi,” Kuroo waited until Daichi took a gulp from his water bottle before he raised one eyebrow suggestively. “I’m sure I’ll be able to drill this routine into you good. _Real_ good.”

Daichi choked as Sugawara’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, grin widening. “Aaaand that, I believe, is my cue to leave. Don’t mind me, I’ll just stage exit right.”

“What happened to the no flirting policy in your classes?” Daichi hissed under his breath as Sugawara ambled off to chat with Nishinoya.

“Very technically, I wasn’t flirting - I was merely pointing out facts.” Kuroo laughed as he ducked Daichi’s indignant swat. “Besides, I thought you agreed that some laxness sometimes was a good thing.”

“Not during these kinds of times, you bastard. Good lord, I’m probably the shade of a tomato right now.”

“Much cuter than one though.” Kuroo valiantly resisted the urge to lean in and kiss his boyfriend, turning to look back at the front of the room. “Break’s almost up, I’m gonna go start teaching this properly.”

“Go on.” Daichi grinned suddenly as he pushed Kuroo back to the front. “By the way, I’m going to hold you to that drill, Tetsurou.”

Kuroo bit his lip to keep from smiling too hard as he jogged back to the front of the class, meeting Daichi’s dancing eyes once more before he called the class back to attention. There would be more than enough time later to tease his boyfriend, and flirt with him when Kuroo helped him to run through the complicated dance routine. More than enough days to kiss him, and roll under the sheets with him and figure out where they’d go from here.

In the meantime however, there was a dance class to run, and Kuroo was, as ever, a professional.

“So, listen up, let’s get started…”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so very much for reading - I hope it was worth the time spent! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و
> 
> Seriously, all the kudos to the ever-patient [Enzen](wataksampingan.tumblr.com) for the beta-read and for putting up with me wailing at godforsaken hours in the morning.
> 
> I have a tumblr over [here](http://hweiro.tumblr.com/) if you want to drop on by.


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